Elgappa — Roleplayer Guild

Last Seen: 2 yrs ago
Joined: 8 yrs ago
Posts: 388 (0.13 / day)
VMs: 0
Username history
1. Elgappa 8 yrs ago
Latest 10 profile visitors:

Status

Recent Statuses

8 yrs ago

Current Except you have a saw...

1 like

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

In War Never Changes → 8 yrs ago Forum: Nation Roleplay

 2290, New Vegas, Ultra-Luxe Resort & Casino--Warleader Dosh-Novan

"Soft sons-of-bitches!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In You rent a shared apartment, and when you go in for the first time, the profile pic above is your new roomate → 8 yrs ago Forum: Spam Forum

Good Snek! You want a Boop? Hope you are a friendly Noodle, and not a danger one! 

In I saw Atlantis: Lost Empire for the first time the other day → 8 yrs ago Forum: Spam Forum

Great Movie! 

In War Never Changes → 8 yrs ago Forum: Nation Roleplay

McCarran Airfield--Warleader Dosh-Novan

Prologue

The Cult of Ug-Qualtoth, was little more then the kind of rumor that people share over a drink, only to remember it in the depth of night, fearing that it might be reality, for the people of Vegas. Stories, brought in from traders and Mercenaries, from a strange new faith, far in the north, a city covered in a Dark Mist, and nightmares about a black Monolith, often circulated for a while, before they were seen as ridiculous overstatements. Yes, there were barbarians somewhere out there, with strange believes and a fanatic devotion to something above them, yet as seen with the Legion, these primitives could be beaten back, crushed under the returning might of civilization! 

It was unknown to most people, yet New Vegas had indeed more history with the cult, then met the eye at first glance. Ten years ago, before the battle of Hoover damn, a Missionary had arrived in Freeside, robed in black, with a crude copy of a book, with letters that hurt in the eyes, and some even claimed made their eyes bleed. It was this very Missonary who would preach among the Junkies and the filth of Vegas, and soon even be able to win the first Converts among the Downtrodden. Yet most mistrusted the strange preaching about the uncaring deity called Ug-Qualtoth and were keen on seeing this new faith vanish as quickly as it had appeared 
It was the brutal murder of a young girl, which escalated the tension. Even through nobody could proof any connection with the Missonary, a angry Mob, lead by the mother of the murdered girl, stormed the Quarters of the Missonary, killed some of the Converts, before setting the Missionary himself ablaze and throwing him into the sewers. Most say that his corpse still lays below the now restored Streets of the city of Light, while some say that he has survived, forming a cult below the city, in the sewers, waiting to one day return to the surface. 

 2290, New Vegas, McCarran Airfield 

Warleader Dosh-Novan had lived three lives. His first was as a bright eyed boy in the Capital Wasteland, helping out at his parents trading caravan, Haggling for a minor profit with the Settlements around. It was a good life, as good as a live could be in the wasteland, until the day his parents were murdered by raiders. If it hadnt been for the Patrol of the Brotherhood of Steel, his first live would have been his only live. But they took him in, cared for him, giving him a new home, and a new Purpose. It was here where his second live began, the day he swore to Uphold the codex, and his Loyalty to Elder Lyons. What a fool he had been! 
For his third life began when the Cult pushed into DC, when he had been blessed to lay eyes on the Monolith, in all his magnificent glory! How pathetic the Brotherhood was, how insignificant their ideas and values! To turn on them, and cut down his former brother and sisters in arms with his Mini-gun had been no betrayal, it had been an act of Mercy!   

"We have Arrived, Warleader!" 

The words of the Warrior were soft, as the Plane slowly began to lower it altitude. Dosh-Novan had been lost in thoughts as he once more had played with his dog-tags, the last reminded of his second life. "So foolish.."

"Good!" 

It had been tempting to arrive in his old Power armor, now decorated in grim trophies with a cloak made out of the Skin of worthy opponents, yet the Pure One had forbidden such an open display of might and terror. An so, the Warleader had to wear the humiliating clothing of the world before the great fire had been scourged the world! A black suite, with a suitable trench coat and leather gloves, to hide the Tattoo´s on his hands. 
The Pure One demanded it, and the Warleader would follow! As such, the Warriors who he had personally chosen to serve as her guard, all wore a similar attire. Black Suites, with polished metal chest-armor and clean-pre war rifles. The only thing, that the Warleader had been insisted on, was that his men could keep their Rebreathers, allowing them to keep on breathing the blessed Miasma of the monolith. 

As the Plane landed, and finally had reached a halt, the Warleader got up from his seat, and passed his men, who, like naive children, stared out of the Window, glaring at the city in the distance, so unlike anything they had seen before. Their enthusiasm for this place was worrying, and the Warleader would keep an close eye on them, that they would not fail in their Duty to the pure on. 
Reaching the enclosed Compartment in the Back, he wanted to Knock, yet the door opened on its own, and Marie Ashur, Adopted Daughter of the Prophet, stepped out of the room. She had chosen a modest, yet still quite suiting dress, in a pale white, that matched the snow-white of her skin. 

"Yes, Warleader, i share your opinion!"  

Leaving the Plane, they quickly could hear the rolling of a single wheel, and soon the securitron had reached them.
Mr. House seemed to enjoy a little joke, that only few chosen or especially literate would understand. For the Face on the screen was nobody else but the Pre-War Horror-Writer Howard Edgard King, famous for his dark Short stories of the Cosmic Horror. Later in his life, he was unable to make the jump to Cinema, and had to do a wide range of humiliating Commercials, leaving him mostly remembered after his death in the year of 2051, for the Penny Gram Fishsticks.
The Warleader was bit tense as he mistrusted the Machine, yet the Pure one simply made a step forward. 

"Welcome, Travellers, your journey has ended in one way, yet just began in another! A meeting is held in the Ultra-Lux, a place of glamour and luxury...yet some may rumor of it Dark Secrets! I may indulge you with the story of their heritage on the way there, so stay a while, and Lisen..." 

 2290, New Vegas, Ultra-Luxe Resort & Casino

Many eyes had looked for the delegation of the cult, yet many that had seen them, didnt realized it. Marie Ashur, who lead the group, didnt looked like the representative of a dark faith from the north. More like the daughter of an NCR Brahmin Baron, who lost all her caps on the first day, and would have to write a tearful letter to her father to came and take her home. Yet on the second look, the ones that werent distracted would notice that something was off about her. The very way she walked seemed off, and strangely weightless. The ones that would continue on watching, would meet the Iron glare of the Warleader, and wouldnt be able to stand it long. As such, the delegation soon reached their goal, entering the Ultra-Luxe.

"Introducing the honored heiress of Dunwich, Marie Ashur, who are here to act as Representative of the Faith!" 

The young pale woman was the first to enter the building. Her eyes wandered over all who had arrived so far, while the Warleader placed himself to her side, making her look even smaller and thinner. Resting them for a moment on the Legion, especially on Lucius, she shortly whispered into the Warleaders direction. "I want you to talk with this man! Warrior to Warrior!" 
Raising an eyebrow the Warleader just let out an accepting grunt, as her eyes wandered towards the freshly elected President of the NCR. A smirk layed on her face, as she seemed to wave away a thought, before looking further. 
Yet it was the Warleader himself who spotted the High Elder first. His lip began to twich, as he took a deep breath, before the Pure on turned her head. 

"Tempted to Salute your old masters, Warleader?" 

"They never were my "Masters"! They are from a chapter far from the pathetic rabble Lyons has led! They mean nothing to me, Pure one!" Crossing his arms, he couldnt help but think, what a wonderful trophy the head of an High Elder would make. 

"Well, look what we have here..." Marie´s suddenlty began to step towards the delegation of the Keys, a broad, slightly unsettling smile on her lips. Her eyes had focused on Suttbray, yet her feet firstly guided her towards Bartholomew Hemingway. Slightly annoyed, the Warleader followed, his eyes still on the High Elder. 
"It is always a pleasure to met our honored trading Partners.." Bowing her head slightly she offered her hand to both, before taking a seat right next to them, making sure that she sat close to Suttbray. "..and interested souls in the one true faith! Ug-Qualtoth smiled upon you, Alexander!" 

Taking a stand behind the Pure one, the Warleader refused to sit, until all had arrived. Even then, he would just be a silent watcher, guardian and servant for the pure one! His true mission would begin after this charade had ended!

In War Never Changes → 8 yrs ago Forum: Nation Roleplay

T H E  C U L T  O F  U G - Q U A L T O T H
Servants and Slaves of what has slumbered under Dunwich 

History:

The history of the divine Host begins with the wealthy water-trader Anthony Dunwich and his obsession to learn more about the history of his family. In the year 2271, he, acompinied by a small group of mercenaries from the Talon Company, set out for the swamps of Point Lookout, where he had heard rumors about a far distant relative. It was there where Anthony Dunwich first would found out about the entity that was worshiped by the swamp folk. And while his Mercenaries would not surive the trip, Anthony would be held in the highest honors by the degenerated natives of the swamp, protected against his dangers, and revive countless, mostly repugnant gifts and other signs of their submission. 

Finally, after weeks of travel, he would reach his kinsmen, only to be simply turned away. In rage, Anthony broke into the home, and stole the first book he could get his hands on, the Krivbeknih. Alone and lost, he secluded himself in a hut in the swamps, and began to study the book, able to quickly learn the strange language it was written in, the swamp folk slowly began to fear the scholar in the hut, and his growing "hunger". After spending a year trying to memorize the book, Anthony began to create four copies, before leaving Point Lookout for good. He had learned enough and he had seen enough! Enough to cut out his own eyes on the way home to the capital wasteland, calming that "He would no longer need to see". It was back in the Capital Wasteland, that Anthony Dunwich was beginning to spread the gospel of Ug-Qualtoth. It was in the year 2273, that the first men and women flocked to the banners of the newly found cult, in the form of a raider gang, that first had captured the blind wanderer, yet quickly had fallen to his words. Soon other gangs would take up the black hood of the cult, and the flock of the heir of Dunwich would turn into a small Army. Wandering the Wasteland, preaching the word of the Krivbeknih, he finally would find what he had been looking for. 

Hundereds of years ago, Anthony Dunwich ancestors had been the leaders of a Pre-war Company, the Dunwich Borers LLC. Holding up the facade of a legitimate business, this very company focused on the excavation and collection of the relics of a time long past, and the worship of Ug-Qualtoth. The Great War had stopped their plans, yet Anthony was now in a spot to finally bring in the age of the dark god. And so, the last Heir of Dunwich stepped into the building his ancestors had build so long ago, struck by visions of what was, what is and what will be. The ghouls in the building followed him, like loyal dogs, as he ventured deeper, and finally found what he had been looking for all this time, the great Monolith of Ug-Qualtoth! Standing in front of it, he finally understood his purpose in life, as his role had been decided long before his birth, and his fate was not in his hand. Anthony Dunwich layed down his name once and for all, and became the Blind Prophet, undisputed leader of the Cult of Ug-Qualtoth. Revealing his ascension to his followers, he declared a great purge had to be take place, as the dark god was hungering! Starting with his followers, the strong began to pick out the weak, and soon the black Monolith was humming, as the whisperes in the ears of the cultists showed Ug-Qualtoth approval. 
It was at this time, that the feral Ghouls of the capital Wasteland began to wander towards the Dunwich building, forming a horde like a swarm of locust. Nobody could deny anymore, that something dark was happening in the capital wasteland, something that would change its face forever. 

Venturing out from the Building, the Horde butchered its way towards the Potomac. Like attack dogs, the feral Ghouls roamed the area in front of the horde, devouring most resistance before the main host would even arrive. With the exception of Megaton, no settlement could put up any noteworthy resistance. Yet the City around the Atomic Bomb would fall, devoured by the seemingly endless host of cultists, with the chuch of Atom being defiled, and a copy of the Monolith being constructed in the middle of the town. With the Ruins of Washington DC in reach, the Cult would join the ongoing war in its ruins. 
The West-Coast Brotherhood of Steel was still fighting a three-way war with the Super-Mutants of DC and the Enclave, when they first met the Cult in the outskirts of the city. Putting up a valiant defense, the Cult was stopped from advancing, and even almost pushed out of Washington. Angered by this failure, the Blind Prothet secluded himself in the chamber of the Monolith. After a vision, he ordered that the Monolith was to be excavated, and placed onto a mobile shrine, build from the wreck of a cargo train, pulled by captured Super Mutants, and the faithful themselves. Sitting on a throne in front of it, the Shrine was rolled into the ruins of DC. Near it, weapons began to Jam, Insanity began to spread, and formally Loyal Paladins began to turn onto their former Comrades, screaming out praise to Ug-Qualtoth! Like a wave, the cultist made their way towards the Citadel, where they met with the finally ace-in-the-hole of the Brotherhood, Liberty Prime! 

Once more a stalemate was reached, and once more the Prophet turned to secluded Meditation. Once more a vision was shown to him, yet this time telling him about a city in the north, blessed by darkness and corruption, and ripe to become Ug-Qualtoths Holy City. Pleased by the slaughter that had already been committed in the ruins of DC, the Prophet gave the order to retreat, his ranks now thinner, but now counting former Brotherhood of Steel members, turned to the worship of the Dark God. A long March North began, leaving ruins and silence in its wake. Raven Rock, was able to hold out long enough to evacuate, yet would be looted and defiled by the cult, as the strongest among the warriors, soon would begin to wear crude suites of Power armor, calling themselves "The chosen Children". Once more, new cultist and ghouls would join the track that followed the large shrine, and when the smoky city of the Pitt appeared in the distance, the Blind Prophet knew that Ug-Qualtoth would bless them with a victory. As when the Monolith appeared near the city, the Trogs inside the Pitt were struck by an insane frenzy. Fighting for their lives, slavers and slaves alike were easy prey for the Cult, who was welcomed by the Trogs, like a dogs would welcome its master after a long time away. 2278, the Pitt was in the Iron grip of the cult, who would use its industrial capacities, to futher arm its members, while turning it into a nightmarish factory-temple of Ug-Qualtoth. 

Turning Haven into the palace of the Blind Prophet, the Monolith was embeded in front of it, bringing a thick, black fog with it, that covered the city itself and a large area around it. Inside it, nobody can deny to hear the whispers of something older then men, and one should not rely on Technology inside, for Radiation is not even close to be the most deadly danger inside the fog. A nightmarish silence layed over the city, muffeling te sound of Industry that roared out from the factories, as the cult once more set fire into the forges for their unholy crusade over the ruins of the USA had just began. From the mist, hosts of ghouls and cultists would send out, eradicating settlements, and raising crude copies of the Monolith where ever they could. Their numbers began to swell with taken slaves, new converts, and the remenents of the MLA, who eagerly joined into the cult, that only valued strength! Bringing great suffering over the land around the Pitt, they expanded quickly, until they were noticed by a power that could threaten their position! 

The Midwest Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel, alarmed by the stories of traumatized survivors, decided to put an end to the cult, with one might strike. An military expedition was send out, quickly gaining ground in the frontier-lands of the cult. Making short work out of the minor local defenders, soon they would reach Cleveland, and with that, walk into an diabolic trap, set out by the blind prophet himself. Encircling them quickly, hordes of Feral Ghouls would beset them on their every step, while constant blasting of heretical preaching out of thousands of speakers would make sleeping impossible. Wittering down their supplies in ammunition, stamina and discipline, the true force, veterans from the war against the East-Coast Chapter of the Brotherhood, and fresh Converts of the Mutant Liberation army, moved in position, hidden away behind walls of bodies, of the slaughtered waves of Ferals. The following battle was a brutal massacre, with few survivors. The Men and Women of the expedition where at their breaking point, deprived of sleep, food and ammunition, and beset from all sides, by fresh, experienced Veterans, well equipped and well aware of all the weak-spots of Power armor. 

In the midst of battle, where most of the Knights and soldiers put up a valiant, yet hopless defense, some gave in to the whispers in the back of their head, falling right into their brothers back. The most prominent of Turncoats was Captain-Paladin Richter, who turned in the midst of battle, breaking the main line of the Brotherhood defense. In the end, only a small handful of the expedition could escape, watching in horror, as their captured Brothers and Sisters in arms, where sacrificed in an grand Ritual to honor Ug-Qualtoth. Till this very day, the city of Cleveland is littered with grim Totems, broken corpses, and nightmarish trophies. And some even say, taht during their stay in the city, they constantly can hear horrible screams of agony, mixed with an inhuman laughter. 

Turning its attention West, the Cult was taken by surpise, as the followers of Atom launched an Crusade to retake the Capital Wasteland and with it, their holy city of Megaton. Richter, who now had taken the name of Zer´g Rilth Hagur, Great-Champion of Ug-Qualtoth, wanted to proof his devotion by crushing the crusade, yet the Blind Prothet denied his request, fearing an Offensive from the Brotherhood, as well as mistrusting the new Great-Champion. And while many minor Warleaders of the Cult, set to met the crusaders, their struggle was finally in vain, as the Capital Wasteland once more was liberated from the cult, yet remained a silent, depopulated place, still scared by the cult, and riddled with mad surivors of their presence. 

Losing the Capital Wasteland was seen as a sign of weakness by many, and unrest began to spread among the members of the Cult. A disgruntled Veteran, Warbringer Harkness, decided to split off from the main cult, and protect the Dunwich building, while keeping on harassing the Children of Atom. Once more, many expected a response from the Blind Prophet, but all they got was silence. 
And while the War of the Hoover Damn was waging at the other sides of the USA, the Cult restablished contact with Point Lookout, welcomed by the swamp Folk, who devoutly accepted the Blind Prophet as Ug-Qualtoth voice on earth. Cleveland at the same time was turned into a Dark Hub of slavery, with the cult selling their weak, and prisoners of war, while eagerly buying sacrifices and potential converts. The Pitt saw great work of architecture, to expand their Factory-Temples, grim sites that consumed coal, ore and slaves alike, to turn them into Steel, weapons, Ammunition, and Machines of War. Like their great enemy to the West, the Cult has preparing for an expansion, waiting for a moment of weakness to exploit!

Population: 460.000

The Cult of Ug-Qualtoth is a Theocratic Hegemony, with the founder of the faith, the Blind Prophet, Antony Dunwich as its leader, and a council of Warleaders below it. The faith itself has no true structure, with countless priests, missionaries and neophytes, spreading the word of the Dark god, far beyond its territory! Beyond that, the land is ruled by a crule system of Slavery, Neo-Feudal oath of loyalty and brute barbarism! An over extended, corrupt and inhuman system of goverment, only held together by the will of the Prophet and the faith in Ug-Qualtoth!

-The blind Prophet:
Born with the name Anthony Dunwich, the blind Proteht is the unquestioned leader of the Cult, and voice of Ug-Qualtoth on earth. Building the cult up from the beginning, he now resides in his Palace in the Pitt, spending most of his days meditating over the Monolith, and listening to the voices in his mind. Leaving most day-by-day business to his Advisers. Feared beyond the realm of the cult, countless stories circulate around about his abilities, and powers, and some claim that he could set people ablaze with a mere swing of his hand. 
--Zer´g Rilth Hagur  (Broken Steel), Warmaster of Ug-Qualtoth:
Formally Captain Paladin Cranz, of the Midwest Brotherhood of steel, Zer´g Rilth was a promising soldier, loyal to Barnaky and the idea of Human Purity. Decorated for Valor in the fight against the Mutant Liberation Army, and showing great Leadership potential, the expedition into the Cult held land, was seen as final test before a secure promotion. 
For years, many had believed him to be dead, fallen in an heroic defense to allow his fellow brothers and sisters in arms to escape. It was a shock for them, to find out that their once proud Paladin, had turned into a disciple of the Dark God, Brutally murdering the same men he had lead into battle mere hours ago! But even then, his loyalty was questions, and the Blind Prothet sentenced him to a quest of Penance of five years. Roaming the No-mans land between Ronto, the MWBoS and the Cult, Zer´g Rilth cut a bloody path trough the strong and helpless alike! Assembling his own Host during this time, he returned after five years, with one of the strongest retinue of the whole cult, made up of Former-Raiders, Brotherhood Deserters, Mutants and Abominations of the Wildness, beaten into Submission by the Champion. Taking the place of the Right hand of the Prothet, he is the supreme Master of War of the Cult, and his mere name causes fear among the enemies of the cult. 
-Marie Ashur:
(Without the cybernetics) 
The once greatly promised cure of the affliction of the Pitt had been a spoil of war, when the Cult took the holy city. Still a baby, her parents both had perished in the fighting, and she was close to become a sacrfice herself, if it werent for the intervention of the Blind Prothet. Raising her as his own child, she became the silent watcher at his side, untouched by the ravaging forces that mutated all around her. With not a single sign of mutation on her, and an almost unatural purness on her, Marie Ashur has become the most trusted of servants of the Prothet, and his voice outside of the cult. Negotiating in his name, rumors claim her to be a Psyker, able to control beasts and men alike. 

-Warleader Rog´Resh the Immortal:
Created in Vault 87, in the capital wasteland, Rog´Resh, was among the rare exceptions that were able to maintain their intellect. Holding onto his memories of his former life, as the Raider Boss Roger Ressberg, Rog´Resh quickly was able to rise to a position of leadership among his more simpler brethren! Quick to join the cult, to bring great suffering over the East-Coast Brotherhood of steel, he became the chief Enforcer of the Prothet, long time Great-Champion and his personal Executioner. When he was replaced with Zer´g Rilth Hagur, he left in anger, forming his own Host in the ruins of Fort Wayne, turning the city into his personal Fortress. Still loyal to the Blind Prophet, but disgruntled over some of his decisions, the Warleader keeps his distance from the main cult, and tries his best to remain self sufficient.

Military (try to be somewhat realistic):
The true number of men-at-arms of the cult, is subject to quite an dispute among analysts and Intelligence services of the neighboring states. While some claim that the cult could mobile Hundred of thousands of warriors, the more prudent tactical estimation place the number between 40.000 and 80.000. Due to the nature of Command inside the Cult, it is quite unlikely that even the blind Prophet truly knows the size of his own army. 

At the top of the army stands the Blind Prophet, who in Theory holds total sway over all faithful, yet in reality, barley takes on the burden of Command. At his side stands the First-Champion, who only bows to the great Prophet himself, and a few chosen Great-Champions. Below him are the War-leaders, distinguished Warriors and leaders, who have been given the right to raise their own troops from among the faithful. They are also responsible for keeping them equipped, fed, payed and loyal to the faith. Below that, each Warleader can structure his troops how ever he or she sees it fit, yet most are aware of the needs for a chain of command, and appoint champions and lieutenants from among their warriors. The word of the Warleader is law among his men, yet should a Warleader proof weak or show a lack of faith, his men are free to kill and replace him with a more "Worthy" leader. 

The common warrior of the cult, be it human or mutant, has to proof his strength first, in trails set up by the Warleader, to sort out the weak, before being allowed into his ranks. Warleader Ironface, as an example, demands that all the potential recruits are amassed in a great arena, to fight each other to the death, under the constant cheering of her own warband. Warleader Harkon demands that all his recruits are send unarmed into the tunnels below the Pitt, and only allowed to leave, if they return with the head of a feral Ghoul.   
Beyond these "Welcoming" rites, the training the Warriors receive is quite deadly, which leads to a high mortality rate, yet also makes the Veterans of the Cult incredibly dangerous Opponents.

It had been quite a suprise for the Brotherhood, that the Cult not only was able to maintain its weapons, but also produce a "semi-standardized" Equipment. The Industrial Capacities of the Pitt are fully used to arm its warriors, mass-producing their weapons, ammunition and Supply. 

The main weaponry are the primitive, yet highly reliant Assault-rifles, simply called "Cutter", while crude Blades are equally handed out next to them, for Ug-Qualtoth finds great pleasure in the close-combat slaughter. A metal chest piece is also quite often handed out, yet its heavy weigh often leads to the warriors choosing to trust in faith, rather then the metal. 

Another quite often handed out piece of equipment are rough gas-masks, made out of cloth, rubber or leather. Yet rather then to filter the air the Cultists breath, it instead mixes the air with the Miasma of the Monolith. Even through the Enclave and the Brotherhood already have made multiple attempts of explaining this, neither side could find out any benefits from this factor....and both sides decided no longer to continue the experimentation, after strange whispers would fill the heads of all who had breathed in the Miasma.  

Expanding and rebuilding many Factories inside the Pitt, the Cult was able to scavange old Pre-War plans for Machinery of War, and reworking some of them for the new world around them. Scavenging wrecks of cars and trucks, the Cult was able to begin a mass-production of their "Marauder" Tank, a crude, yet fast and easy to maintain Line-breaker. Next to it are crude pieces of Pre-War Artillery as well, a newly build assets, which are highly wanted by the different Warleaders.     

Typical Warriors of the Cult

Nobody that ever had fought with the cult of Ug-Qualtoth can deny that they are unlike any other Opponent ever faced before. Where they go, Madness and darkness follows, when they leave, death and silence remain. They are no raiders to plunder a city, no horde to conquer a city and no cannibals to devour it....they are bloodhounds of something dark and ancient! 

Feral Ghouls, Troggs and other abominations follow their warriors, like dogs, and throw themselves into the fray, unlike anyone ever has seen them do before! The warriors of the cult, high on the Miasma of the Monolith, fear no pain nor death, and their frenzy knows no bounds! Defenders against these hordes can often hear whispers or screams in the back of their heads, and it is common for some to give into the sweet offerings that are whispered between them, to join the ravaging horde.

Even before the arrival of the Cult of Ug-Qualtoth, the Pitt had no lack for nightmarish places, yet with the raising of the Monolith in its center, the city has turned into an incarnated Terror on the surface. But the worst fate a slave can receive in the Pitt, is to be send below! For it is here, where the Cult breeds its beast of war, and experiments with flesh. Some claim that they were able to capture the FEV from the Capital Wasteland, while see the Radiation of the Pitt as the main cause for the rapid change of animals, humans and beasts alike. Yet one has to ask himself, why all these beasts fear the Monolith that much, that wince in agony, when the runes of the Krivbeknih are painted onto their skin before battle. 

The most stable and wiedly used Creation of the Cult is the Riding-Rat, a gigantic mole rat, able to carry multiple men at once. Used as a beast of burden or war, their number is still relatively low, yet they breed rapidly. Beside that, Failed experiments are often used as Cannon fodder or Shock troops, to overwhelm enemies, or at beasts of the Fighting Pits.

Before the Pitt was taken by the Cult, it more resembled a swarm of locust, rather then a substaible economy. This changed, when the Pitt was turned into the Holy City of the faith, and its industrial Capacities where sized by the cult. Now, the smelters, Workshops and Factories work day and night, as constant streams of Coal, Ore and Slaves are Consumed by the city. Being the biggest producer of raw steel in all of the north the north and still enough metal to be scrapped to support its industry for centuries, the Cult has barley even scratched the full potential of the Pitt. 
Beyond that, there is little in terms of industry around the Pitt. To support and feed its population, enormous Plantation have been created, where slaves harvest a black mutation of Razorgrain, and large pens where all kinds of livestock are breed and slaughtered. This cattle-culter has reached a size, large enough to make sure that the Allegheny River runs black with the blood of the livestock. Among the most popular cattle are Rad-roaches, giant-ants and Bloatflies, as the "traditional" cattle of the post-apocalyptic america, the Brahmin seldom last long near the city of the Pitt, often falling to Madness, or a strange, flesh eating sickness, that leaves them hallow husks.
Slaves are the common, and abundant workforce of the Cult, made up of captives of raids, bought from outside, or unlucky converts who proofed to weak to be useful for anything else. Working in the factories, the Farms or in large, chain-gangs that scavenge under the watchful eyes of so call "Pack-masters" they are the solid base of the cult, and substain it.  

To the suprise of many, the Cult is more then happy to trade with outsiders, offering Steel, weapons and Ammunition for Luxury Goods, Candles and Slaves. Maintaining a large Trade Hub in Cleveland, and a minor one in Point Lookout, "Other Good" are also exchanged. Rumors of black statures, who weep tears of blood, books that whisper and the night, and glowing Amulets are not unheard off. With that Trade often come Missonaries, spreading the word of Ug-Qualtoth to all who can hear it!

The Culture of the Cult is intertwined with its faith, as it dominants almost every aspect of daily life. Nobody who has ever layed eyes onto the Monolith can deny the existence of Ug-Qualtoth, and few are able to resist the temptation to worship it. 
All who can provide for the cult, and proof that they can take care for themselves, can have a life in security, protected by the Warbands of the Cult, and the knowledge that they are part of the chosen of Ug-Qualtoth, secure from the dangers of the Wasteland. The Morals of the Old world have been abandoned, and the only Law is that of the Prophet. Polygamy, Drug-Abuse and murder, are common for the members of the Cult, yet they still remain humans at heart, and most see that at least some kind of Status Quo in terms of violence towards each other has to be maintainted. As such, most are content with simply watching the Battles in the fighting pit, and leave the combat to the Warriors of the warband, while going on with their daily lives in peace. 
To be a slave in the cult is a different story, and a nightmarish, painful and mostly short existence. Branded with the Dark runes, equiped with a slave collar, and send to the most dangerous of tasks, few can escape this lot! Yet the ones who do, often do so by joining the Trails to become a warrior, either winning their freedom, or die trying! 
Mutants are seen as the will of Ug-Qualtoth desire for change, and are welcome into the ranks of the Cult! Ghouls are even seen as the chosen people of the dark god, and are often seen as a sign of good luck. Yet all life is equally worthless in the eye of the Dark God, and a weak mutant is just as likely to end up as a slave as a weak human!  

In terms of Technology has the Cult quite a twisted standing. While openly mocking it, they are not above using it, yet mostly lack the knowledge and skill to create more advanced machinery. Skilled scavengers and insidious Engineers, the Workmasters of the Cult are known for their Simple, yet resilient constructions, easy to copy and mass produce, while constantly trying to repair pre-war machinery, once more using them for the glory of the cult! From simple cars, to power armor, the cult often finds a way to return it to a working state, and use it to advance it goals. This has lead other fractions to rather destroy their equipment, then to let it fall into the hands of the cultist!

"Faithful... enlightened... ambitious... brethren.

In but a few years, a few mere swipes of the pendulum, we have gathered a sacrifice to Ug-Qualtoth that will be made legend.

Though it was a simpler, weaker voice that illuminated me during my travels the swamps of Point Lookout...

...it was Ug-Qualtoth's messenger who showed me the true path of freedom from our pathetic Existance.

And what is this path? This meaning, this purpose to which we gather the skulls of our foes?

It is nothing. There is no meaning, no purpose. We murder. We kill. It is mindless savagery, this UNIVERSE IS MINDLESS!

In mere hours, hundreds will die. Innocent! Guilty! Strong and weak! Honest and deceitful! ALL of them!

They will scream, they will burn, and for no purpose but that mighty Ug-Qualtoth may revel in their bloodshed!

And united in this void of purpose, fear, or duty... we shall at long last be free!

Spill Blood for the Dark God! Corpses for his Kingdom! LET THE WORLD BURN!"

Recorded Preaching of the Blind Prophet, send minutes before the main attack on Cleveland

In War Never Changes → 8 yrs ago Forum: Nation Roleplay

T H E  C U L T  O F  U G - Q U A L T O T H
Servants and Slaves of what has slumbered under Dunwich 

History:

The history of the divine Host begins with the wealthy water-trader Anthony Dunwich and his obsession to learn more about the history of his family. In the year 2271, he, acompinied by a small group of mercenaries from the Talon Company, set out for the swamps of Point Lookout, where he had heard rumors about a far distant relative. It was there where Anthony Dunwich first would found out about the entity that was worshiped by the swamp folk. And while his Mercenaries would not surive the trip, Anthony would be held in the highest honors by the degenerated natives of the swamp, protected against his dangers, and revive countless, mostly repugnant gifts and other signs of their submission. 

Finally, after weeks of travel, he would reach his kinsmen, only to be simply turned away. In rage, Anthony broke into the home, and stole the first book he could get his hands on, the Krivbeknih. Alone and lost, he secluded himself in a hut in the swamps, and began to study the book, able to quickly learn the strange language it was written in, the swamp folk slowly began to fear the scholar in the hut, and his growing "hunger". After spending a year trying to memorize the book, Anthony began to create four copies, before leaving Point Lookout for good. He had learned enough and he had seen enough! Enough to cut out his own eyes on the way home to the capital wasteland, calming that "He would no longer need to see". It was back in the Capital Wasteland, that Anthony Dunwich was beginning to spread the gospel of Ug-Qualtoth. It was in the year 2273, that the first men and women flocked to the banners of the newly found cult, in the form of a raider gang, that first had captured the blind wanderer, yet quickly had fallen to his words. Soon other gangs would take up the black hood of the cult, and the flock of the heir of Dunwich would turn into a small Army. Wandering the Wasteland, preaching the word of the Krivbeknih, he finally would find what he had been looking for. 

Hundereds of years ago, Anthony Dunwich ancestors had been the leaders of a Pre-war Company, the Dunwich Borers LLC. Holding up the facade of a legitimate business, this very company focused on the excavation and collection of the relics of a time long past, and the worship of Ug-Qualtoth. The Great War had stopped their plans, yet Anthony was now in a spot to finally bring in the age of the dark god. And so, the last Heir of Dunwich stepped into the building his ancestors had build so long ago, struck by visions of what was, what is and what will be. The ghouls in the building followed him, like loyal dogs, as he ventured deeper, and finally found what he had been looking for all this time, the great Monolith of Ug-Qualtoth! Standing in front of it, he finally understood his purpose in life, as his role had been decided long before his birth, and his fate was not in his hand. Anthony Dunwich layed down his name once and for all, and became the Blind Prophet, undisputed leader of the Cult of Ug-Qualtoth. Revealing his ascension to his followers, he declared a great purge had to be take place, as the dark god was hungering! Starting with his followers, the strong began to pick out the weak, and soon the black Monolith was humming, as the whisperes in the ears of the cultists showed Ug-Qualtoth approval. 
It was at this time, that the feral Ghouls of the capital Wasteland began to wander towards the Dunwich building, forming a horde like a swarm of locust. Nobody could deny anymore, that something dark was happening in the capital wasteland, something that would change its face forever. 

Venturing out from the Building, the Horde butchered its way towards the Potomac. Like attack dogs, the feral Ghouls roamed the area in front of the horde, devouring most resistance before the main host would even arrive. With the exception of Megaton, no settlement could put up any noteworthy resistance. Yet the City around the Atomic Bomb would fall, devoured by the seemingly endless host of cultists, with the chuch of Atom being defiled, and a copy of the Monolith being constructed in the middle of the town. With the Ruins of Washington DC in reach, the Cult would join the ongoing war in its ruins. 
The West-Coast Brotherhood of Steel was still fighting a three-way war with the Super-Mutants of DC and the Enclave, when they first met the Cult in the outskirts of the city. Putting up a valiant defense, the Cult was stopped from advancing, and even almost pushed out of Washington. Angered by this failure, the Blind Prothet secluded himself in the chamber of the Monolith. After a vision, he ordered that the Monolith was to be excavated, and placed onto a mobile shrine, build from the wreck of a cargo train, pulled by captured Super Mutants, and the faithful themselves. Sitting on a throne in front of it, the Shrine was rolled into the ruins of DC. Near it, weapons began to Jam, Insanity began to spread, and formally Loyal Paladins began to turn onto their former Comrades, screaming out praise to Ug-Qualtoth! Like a wave, the cultist made their way towards the Citadel, where they met with the finally ace-in-the-hole of the Brotherhood, Liberty Prime! 

Once more a stalemate was reached, and once more the Prophet turned to secluded Meditation. Once more a vision was shown to him, yet this time telling him about a city in the north, blessed by darkness and corruption, and ripe to become Ug-Qualtoths Holy City. Pleased by the slaughter that had already been committed in the ruins of DC, the Prophet gave the order to retreat, his ranks now thinner, but now counting former Brotherhood of Steel members, turned to the worship of the Dark God. A long March North began, leaving ruins and silence in its wake. Raven Rock, was able to hold out long enough to evacuate, yet would be looted and defiled by the cult, as the strongest among the warriors, soon would begin to wear crude suites of Power armor, calling themselves "The chosen Children". Once more, new cultist and ghouls would join the track that followed the large shrine, and when the smoky city of the Pitt appeared in the distance, the Blind Prophet knew that Ug-Qualtoth would bless them with a victory. As when the Monolith appeared near the city, the Trogs inside the Pitt were struck by an insane frenzy. Fighting for their lives, slavers and slaves alike were easy prey for the Cult, who was welcomed by the Trogs, like a dogs would welcome its master after a long time away. 2278, the Pitt was in the Iron grip of the cult, who would use its industrial capacities, to futher arm its members, while turning it into a nightmarish factory-temple of Ug-Qualtoth. 

Turning Haven into the palace of the Blind Prophet, the Monolith was embeded in front of it, bringing a thick, black fog with it, that covered the city itself and a large area around it. Inside it, nobody can deny to hear the whispers of something older then men, and one should not rely on Technology inside, for Radiation is not even close to be the most deadly danger inside the fog. A nightmarish silence layed over the city, muffeling te sound of Industry that roared out from the factories, as the cult once more set fire into the forges for their unholy crusade over the ruins of the USA had just began. From the mist, hosts of ghouls and cultists would send out, eradicating settlements, and raising crude copies of the Monolith where ever they could. Their numbers began to swell with taken slaves, new converts, and the remenents of the MLA, who eagerly joined into the cult, that only valued strength! Bringing great suffering over the land around the Pitt, they expanded quickly, until they were noticed by a power that could threaten their position! 

The Midwest Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel, alarmed by the stories of traumatized survivors, decided to put an end to the cult, with one might strike. An military expedition was send out, quickly gaining ground in the frontier-lands of the cult. Making short work out of the minor local defenders, soon they would reach Cleveland, and with that, walk into an diabolic trap, set out by the blind prophet himself. Encircling them quickly, hordes of Feral Ghouls would beset them on their every step, while constant blasting of heretical preaching out of thousands of speakers would make sleeping impossible. Wittering down their supplies in ammunition, stamina and discipline, the true force, veterans from the war against the East-Coast Chapter of the Brotherhood, and fresh Converts of the Mutant Liberation army, moved in position, hidden away behind walls of bodies, of the slaughtered waves of Ferals. The following battle was a brutal massacre, with few survivors. The Men and Women of the expedition where at their breaking point, deprived of sleep, food and ammunition, and beset from all sides, by fresh, experienced Veterans, well equipped and well aware of all the weak-spots of Power armor. 

In the midst of battle, where most of the Knights and soldiers put up a valiant, yet hopless defense, some gave in to the whispers in the back of their head, falling right into their brothers back. The most prominent of Turncoats was Captain-Paladin Richter, who turned in the midst of battle, breaking the main line of the Brotherhood defense. In the end, only a small handful of the expedition could escape, watching in horror, as their captured Brothers and Sisters in arms, where sacrificed in an grand Ritual to honor Ug-Qualtoth. Till this very day, the city of Cleveland is littered with grim Totems, broken corpses, and nightmarish trophies. And some even say, taht during their stay in the city, they constantly can hear horrible screams of agony, mixed with an inhuman laughter. 

Turning its attention West, the Cult was taken by surpise, as the followers of Atom launched an Crusade to retake the Capital Wasteland and with it, their holy city of Megaton. Richter, who now had taken the name of Zer´g Rilth Hagur, Great-Champion of Ug-Qualtoth, wanted to proof his devotion by crushing the crusade, yet the Blind Prothet denied his request, fearing an Offensive from the Brotherhood, as well as mistrusting the new Great-Champion. And while many minor Warleaders of the Cult, set to met the crusaders, their struggle was finally in vain, as the Capital Wasteland once more was liberated from the cult, yet remained a silent, depopulated place, still scared by the cult, and riddled with mad surivors of their presence. 

Losing the Capital Wasteland was seen as a sign of weakness by many, and unrest began to spread among the members of the Cult. A disgruntled Veteran, Warbringer Harkness, decided to split off from the main cult, and protect the Dunwich building, while keeping on harassing the Children of Atom. Once more, many expected a response from the Blind Prophet, but all they got was silence. 
And while the War of the Hoover Damn was waging at the other sides of the USA, the Cult restablished contact with Point Lookout, welcomed by the swamp Folk, who devoutly accepted the Blind Prophet as Ug-Qualtoth voice on earth. Cleveland at the same time was turned into a Dark Hub of slavery, with the cult selling their weak, and prisoners of war, while eagerly buying sacrifices and potential converts. The Pitt saw great work of architecture, to expand their Factory-Temples, grim sites that consumed coal, ore and slaves alike, to turn them into Steel, weapons, Ammunition, and Machines of War. Like their great enemy to the West, the Cult has preparing for an expansion, waiting for a moment of weakness to exploit!

Population: 460.000

The Cult of Ug-Qualtoth is a Theocratic Hegemony, with the founder of the faith, the Blind Prophet, Antony Dunwich as its leader, and a council of Warleaders below it. The faith itself has no true structure, with countless priests, missionaries and neophytes, spreading the word of the Dark god, far beyond its territory! Beyond that, the land is ruled by a crule system of Slavery, Neo-Feudal oath of loyalty and brute barbarism! An over extended, corrupt and inhuman system of goverment, only held together by the will of the Prophet and the faith in Ug-Qualtoth!

-The blind Prophet:
Born with the name Anthony Dunwich, the blind Proteht is the unquestioned leader of the Cult, and voice of Ug-Qualtoth on earth. Building the cult up from the beginning, he now resides in his Palace in the Pitt, spending most of his days meditating over the Monolith, and listening to the voices in his mind. Leaving most day-by-day business to his Advisers. Feared beyond the realm of the cult, countless stories circulate around about his abilities, and powers, and some claim that he could set people ablaze with a mere swing of his hand. 
--Zer´g Rilth Hagur  (Broken Steel), First-Champion of Ug-Qualtoth:
Formally Captain Paladin Richter, of the Midwest Brotherhood of steel, Zer´g Rilth was a promising soldier, loyal to Barnaky and the idea of Human Purity. Decorated for Valor in the fight against the Mutant Liberation Army, and showing great Leadership potential, the expedition into the Cult held land, was seen as final test before a secure promotion. 
For years, many had believed him to be dead, fallen in an heroic defense to allow his fellow brothers and sisters in arms to escape. It was a shock for them, to find out that their once proud Paladin, had turned into a disciple of the Dark God, Brutally murdering the same men he had lead into battle mere hours ago! But even then, his loyalty was questions, and the Blind Prothet sentenced him to a quest of Penance of five years. Roaming the No-mans land between Ronto, the MWBoS and the Cult, Zer´g Rilth cut a bloody path trough the strong and helpless alike! Assembling his own Host during this time, he returned after five years, with one of the strongest retinue of the whole cult, made up of Former-Raiders, Brotherhood Deserters, Mutants and Abominations of the Wildness, beaten into Submission by the Champion. Taking the place of the Right hand of the Prothet, he is the supreme Master of War of the Cult, and his mere name causes fear among the enemies of the cult. 
-Marie Ashur:
(Without the cybernetics) 
The once greatly promised cure of the affliction of the Pitt had been a spoil of war, when the Cult took the holy city. Still a baby, her parents both had perished in the fighting, and she was close to become a sacrfice herself, if it werent for the intervention of the Blind Prothet. Raising her as his own child, she became the silent watcher at his side, untouched by the ravaging forces that mutated all around her. With not a single sign of mutation on her, and an almost unatural purness on her, Marie Ashur has become the most trusted of servants of the Prothet, and his voice outside of the cult. Negotiating in his name, rumors claim her to be a Psyker, able to control beasts and men alike. 

-Warleader Rog´Resh the Immortal:
Created in Vault 87, in the capital wasteland, Rog´Resh, was among the rare exceptions that were able to maintain their intellect. Holding onto his memories of his former life, as the Raider Boss Roger Ressberg, Rog´Resh quickly was able to rise to a position of leadership among his more simpler brethren! Quick to join the cult, to bring great suffering over the East-Coast Brotherhood of steel, he became the chief Enforcer of the Prothet, long time Great-Champion and his personal Executioner. When he was replaced with Zer´g Rilth Hagur, he left in anger, forming his own Host in the ruins of Fort Wayne, turning the city into his personal Fortress. Still loyal to the Blind Prophet, but disgruntled over some of his decisions, the Warleader keeps his distance from the main cult, and tries his best to remain self sufficient.

Military (try to be somewhat realistic):
The true number of men-at-arms of the cult, is subject to quite an dispute among analysts and Intelligence services of the neighboring states. While some claim that the cult could mobile Hundred of thousands of warriors, the more prudent tactical estimation place the number between 40.000 and 80.000. Due to the nature of Command inside the Cult, it is quite unlikely that even the blind Prophet truly knows the size of his own army. 

At the top of the army stands the Blind Prophet, who in Theory holds total sway over all faithful, yet in reality, barley takes on the burden of Command. At his side stands the First-Champion, who only bows to the great Prophet himself, and a few chosen Great-Champions. Below him are the War-leaders, distinguished Warriors and leaders, who have been given the right to raise their own troops from among the faithful. They are also responsible for keeping them equipped, fed, payed and loyal to the faith. Below that, each Warleader can structure his troops how ever he or she sees it fit, yet most are aware of the needs for a chain of command, and appoint champions and lieutenants from among their warriors. The word of the Warleader is law among his men, yet should a Warleader proof weak or show a lack of faith, his men are free to kill and replace him with a more "Worthy" leader. 

The common warrior of the cult, be it human or mutant, has to proof his strength first, in trails set up by the Warleader, to sort out the weak, before being allowed into his ranks. Warleader Ironface, as an example, demands that all the potential recruits are amassed in a great arena, to fight each other to the death, under the constant cheering of her own warband. Warleader Harkon demands that all his recruits are send unarmed into the tunnels below the Pitt, and only allowed to leave, if they return with the head of a feral Ghoul.   
Beyond these "Welcoming" rites, the training the Warriors receive is quite deadly, which leads to a high mortality rate, yet also makes the Veterans of the Cult incredibly dangerous Opponents.

It had been quite a suprise for the Brotherhood, that the Cult not only was able to maintain its weapons, but also produce a "semi-standardized" Equipment. The Industrial Capacities of the Pitt are fully used to arm its warriors, mass-producing their weapons, ammunition and Supply. 

The main weaponry are the primitive, yet highly reliant Assault-rifles, simply called "Cutter", while crude Blades are equally handed out next to them, for Ug-Qualtoth finds great pleasure in the close-combat slaughter. A metal chest piece is also quite often handed out, yet its heavy weigh often leads to the warriors choosing to trust in faith, rather then the metal. 

Another quite often handed out piece of equipment are rough gas-masks, made out of cloth, rubber or leather. Yet rather then to filter the air the Cultists breath, it instead mixes the air with the Miasma of the Monolith. Even through the Enclave and the Brotherhood already have made multiple attempts of explaining this, neither side could find out any benefits from this factor....and both sides decided no longer to continue the experimentation, after strange whispers would fill the heads of all who had breathed in the Miasma.  

Expanding and rebuilding many Factories inside the Pitt, the Cult was able to scavange old Pre-War plans for Machinery of War, and reworking some of them for the new world around them. Scavenging wrecks of cars and trucks, the Cult was able to begin a mass-production of their "Marauder" Tank, a crude, yet fast and easy to maintain Line-breaker. Next to it are crude pieces of Pre-War Artillery as well, a newly build assets, which are highly wanted by the different Warleaders.     

Typical Warriors of the Cult

Nobody that ever had fought with the cult of Ug-Qualtoth can deny that they are unlike any other Opponent ever faced before. Where they go, Madness and darkness follows, when they leave, death and silence remain. They are no raiders to plunder a city, no horde to conquer a city and no cannibals to devour it....they are bloodhounds of something dark and ancient! 

Feral Ghouls, Troggs and other abominations follow their warriors, like dogs, and throw themselves into the fray, unlike anyone ever has seen them do before! The warriors of the cult, high on the Miasma of the Monolith, fear no pain nor death, and their frenzy knows no bounds! Defenders against these hordes can often hear whispers or screams in the back of their heads, and it is common for some to give into the sweet offerings that are whispered between them, to join the ravaging horde.

Even before the arrival of the Cult of Ug-Qualtoth, the Pitt had no lack for nightmarish places, yet with the raising of the Monolith in its center, the city has turned into an incarnated Terror on the surface. But the worst fate a slave can receive in the Pitt, is to be send below! For it is here, where the Cult breeds its beast of war, and experiments with flesh. Some claim that they were able to capture the FEV from the Capital Wasteland, while see the Radiation of the Pitt as the main cause for the rapid change of animals, humans and beasts alike. Yet one has to ask himself, why all these beasts fear the Monolith that much, that wince in agony, when the runes of the Krivbeknih are painted onto their skin before battle. 

The most stable and wiedly used Creation of the Cult is the Riding-Rat, a gigantic mole rat, able to carry multiple men at once. Used as a beast of burden or war, their number is still relatively low, yet they breed rapidly. Beside that, Failed experiments are often used as Cannon fodder or Shock troops, to overwhelm enemies, or at beasts of the Fighting Pits.

Before the Pitt was taken by the Cult, it more resembled a swarm of locust, rather then a substaible economy. This changed, when the Pitt was turned into the Holy City of the faith, and its industrial Capacities where sized by the cult. Now, the smelters, Workshops and Factories work day and night, as constant streams of Coal, Ore and Slaves are Consumed by the city. Being the biggest producer of raw steel in all of the north the north and still enough metal to be scrapped to support its industry for centuries, the Cult has barley even scratched the full potential of the Pitt. 
Beyond that, there is little in terms of industry around the Pitt. To support and feed its population, enormous Plantation have been created, where slaves harvest a black mutation of Razorgrain, and large pens where all kinds of livestock are breed and slaughtered. This cattle-culter has reached a size, large enough to make sure that the Allegheny River runs black with the blood of the livestock. Among the most popular cattle are Rad-roaches, giant-ants and Bloatflies, as the "traditional" cattle of the post-apocalyptic america, the Brahmin seldom last long near the city of the Pitt, often falling to Madness, or a strange, flesh eating sickness, that leaves them hallow husks.
Slaves are the common, and abundant workforce of the Cult, made up of captives of raids, bought from outside, or unlucky converts who proofed to weak to be useful for anything else. Working in the factories, the Farms or in large, chain-gangs that scavenge under the watchful eyes of so call "Pack-masters" they are the solid base of the cult, and substain it.  

To the suprise of many, the Cult is more then happy to trade with outsiders, offering Steel, weapons and Ammunition for Luxury Goods, Candles and Slaves. Maintaining a large Trade Hub in Cleveland, and a minor one in Point Lookout, "Other Good" are also exchanged. Rumors of black statures, who weep tears of blood, books that whisper and the night, and glowing Amulets are not unheard off. With that Trade often come Missonaries, spreading the word of Ug-Qualtoth to all who can hear it!

The Culture of the Cult is intertwined with its faith, as it dominants almost every aspect of daily life. Nobody who has ever layed eyes onto the Monolith can deny the existence of Ug-Qualtoth, and few are able to resist the temptation to worship it. 
All who can provide for the cult, and proof that they can take care for themselves, can have a life in security, protected by the Warbands of the Cult, and the knowledge that they are part of the chosen of Ug-Qualtoth, secure from the dangers of the Wasteland. The Morals of the Old world have been abandoned, and the only Law is that of the Prophet. Polygamy, Drug-Abuse and murder, are common for the members of the Cult, yet they still remain humans at heart, and most see that at least some kind of Status Quo in terms of violence towards each other has to be maintainted. As such, most are content with simply watching the Battles in the fighting pit, and leave the combat to the Warriors of the warband, while going on with their daily lives in peace. 
To be a slave in the cult is a different story, and a nightmarish, painful and mostly short existence. Branded with the Dark runes, equiped with a slave collar, and send to the most dangerous of tasks, few can escape this lot! Yet the ones who do, often do so by joining the Trails to become a warrior, either winning their freedom, or die trying! 
Mutants are seen as the will of Ug-Qualtoth desire for change, and are welcome into the ranks of the Cult! Ghouls are even seen as the chosen people of the dark god, and are often seen as a sign of good luck. Yet all life is equally worthless in the eye of the Dark God, and a weak mutant is just as likely to end up as a slave as a weak human!  

In terms of Technology has the Cult quite a twisted standing. While openly mocking it, they are not above using it, yet mostly lack the knowledge and skill to create more advanced machinery. Skilled scavengers and insidious Engineers, the Workmasters of the Cult are known for their Simple, yet resilient constructions, easy to copy and mass produce, while constantly trying to repair pre-war machinery, once more using them for the glory of the cult! From simple cars, to power armor, the cult often finds a way to return it to a working state, and use it to advance it goals. This has lead other fractions to rather destroy their equipment, then to let it fall into the hands of the cultist!

"Faithful... enlightened... ambitious... brethren.

In but a few years, a few mere swipes of the pendulum, we have gathered a sacrifice to Ug-Qualtoth that will be made legend.

Though it was a simpler, weaker voice that illuminated me during my travels the swamps of Point Lookout...

...it was Ug-Qualtoth's messenger who showed me the true path of freedom from our pathetic Existance.

And what is this path? This meaning, this purpose to which we gather the skulls of our foes?

It is nothing. There is no meaning, no purpose. We murder. We kill. It is mindless savagery, this UNIVERSE IS MINDLESS!

In mere hours, hundreds will die. Innocent! Guilty! Strong and weak! Honest and deceitful! ALL of them!

They will scream, they will burn, and for no purpose but that mighty Ug-Qualtoth may revel in their bloodshed!

And united in this void of purpose, fear, or duty... we shall at long last be free!

Spill Blood for the Dark God! Corpses for his Kingdom! LET THE WORLD BURN!"

Recorded Preaching of the Blind Prophet, send minutes before the main attack on Cleveland

In What if Spam was trapped in Canada? → 8 yrs ago Forum: Spam Forum

WE ARE THE SPAM THREAD! We would kill each other over political believes a mere day in...

In War Never Changes- A Fallout RP → 8 yrs ago Forum: Nation Interest Checks

T H E  C U L T  O F  U G - Q U A L T O T H
Servants and Slaves of what has slumbered under Dunwich 

History:

The history of the divine Host begins with the wealthy water-trader Anthony Dunwich and his obsession to learn more about the history of his family. In the year 2271, he, acompinied by a small group of mercenaries from the Talon Company, set out for the swamps of Point Lookout, where he had heard rumors about a far distant relative. It was there where Anthony Dunwich first would found out about the entity that was worshiped by the swamp folk. And while his Mercenaries would not surive the trip, Anthony would be held in the highest honors by the degenerated natives of the swamp, protected against his dangers, and revive countless, mostly repugnant gifts and other signs of their submission. 

Finally, after weeks of travel, he would reach his kinsmen, only to be simply turned away. In rage, Anthony broke into the home, and stole the first book he could get his hands on, the Krivbeknih. Alone and lost, he secluded himself in a hut in the swamps, and began to study the book, able to quickly learn the strange language it was written in, the swamp folk slowly began to fear the scholar in the hut, and his growing "hunger". After spending a year trying to memorize the book, Anthony began to create four copies, before leaving Point Lookout for good. He had learned enough and he had seen enough! Enough to cut out his own eyes on the way home to the capital wasteland, calming that "He would no longer need to see". It was back in the Capital Wasteland, that Anthony Dunwich was beginning to spread the gospel of Ug-Qualtoth. It was in the year 2273, that the first men and women flocked to the banners of the newly found cult, in the form of a raider gang, that first had captured the blind wanderer, yet quickly had fallen to his words. Soon other gangs would take up the black hood of the cult, and the flock of the heir of Dunwich would turn into a small Army. Wandering the Wasteland, preaching the word of the Krivbeknih, he finally would find what he had been looking for. 

Hundereds of years ago, Anthony Dunwich ancestors had been the leaders of a Pre-war Company, the Dunwich Borers LLC. Holding up the facade of a legitimate business, this very company focused on the excavation and collection of the relics of a time long past, and the worship of Ug-Qualtoth. The Great War had stopped their plans, yet Anthony was now in a spot to finally bring in the age of the dark god. And so, the last Heir of Dunwich stepped into the building his ancestors had build so long ago, struck by visions of what was, what is and what will be. The ghouls in the building followed him, like loyal dogs, as he ventured deeper, and finally found what he had been looking for all this time, the great Monolith of Ug-Qualtoth! Standing in front of it, he finally understood his purpose in life, as his role had been decided long before his birth, and his fate was not in his hand. Anthony Dunwich layed down his name once and for all, and became the Blind Prophet, undisputed leader of the Cult of Ug-Qualtoth. Revealing his ascension to his followers, he declared a great purge had to be take place, as the dark god was hungering! Starting with his followers, the strong began to pick out the weak, and soon the black Monolith was humming, as the whisperes in the ears of the cultists showed Ug-Qualtoth approval. 
It was at this time, that the feral Ghouls of the capital Wasteland began to wander towards the Dunwich building, forming a horde like a swarm of locust. Nobody could deny anymore, that something dark was happening in the capital wasteland, something that would change its face forever. 

Venturing out from the Building, the Horde butchered its way towards the Potomac. Like attack dogs, the feral Ghouls roamed the area in front of the horde, devouring most resistance before the main host would even arrive. With the exception of Megaton, no settlement could put up any noteworthy resistance. Yet the City around the Atomic Bomb would fall, devoured by the seemingly endless host of cultists, with the chuch of Atom being defiled, and a copy of the Monolith being constructed in the middle of the town. With the Ruins of Washington DC in reach, the Cult would join the ongoing war in its ruins. 
The West-Coast Brotherhood of Steel was still fighting a three-way war with the Super-Mutants of DC and the Enclave, when they first met the Cult in the outskirts of the city. Putting up a valiant defense, the Cult was stopped from advancing, and even almost pushed out of Washington. Angered by this failure, the Blind Prothet secluded himself in the chamber of the Monolith. After a vision, he ordered that the Monolith was to be excavated, and placed onto a mobile shrine, build from the wreck of a cargo train, pulled by captured Super Mutants, and the faithful themselves. Sitting on a throne in front of it, the Shrine was rolled into the ruins of DC. Near it, weapons began to Jam, Insanity began to spread, and formally Loyal Paladins began to turn onto their former Comrades, screaming out praise to Ug-Qualtoth! Like a wave, the cultist made their way towards the Citadel, where they met with the finally ace-in-the-hole of the Brotherhood, Liberty Prime! 

Once more a stalemate was reached, and once more the Prophet turned to secluded Meditation. Once more a vision was shown to him, yet this time telling him about a city in the north, blessed by darkness and corruption, and ripe to become Ug-Qualtoths Holy City. Pleased by the slaughter that had already been committed in the ruins of DC, the Prophet gave the order to retreat, his ranks now thinner, but now counting former Brotherhood of Steel members, turned to the worship of the Dark God. A long March North began, leaving ruins and silence in its wake. Raven Rock, was able to hold out long enough to evacuate, yet would be looted and defiled by the cult, as the strongest among the warriors, soon would begin to wear crude suites of Power armor, calling themselves "The chosen Children". Once more, new cultist and ghouls would join the track that followed the large shrine, and when the smoky city of the Pitt appeared in the distance, the Blind Prophet knew that Ug-Qualtoth would bless them with a victory. As when the Monolith appeared near the city, the Trogs inside the Pitt were struck by an insane frenzy. Fighting for their lives, slavers and slaves alike were easy prey for the Cult, who was welcomed by the Trogs, like a dogs would welcome its master after a long time away. 2278, the Pitt was in the Iron grip of the cult, who would use its industrial capacities, to futher arm its members, while turning it into a nightmarish factory-temple of Ug-Qualtoth. 

Turning Haven into the palace of the Blind Prophet, the Monolith was embeded in front of it, bringing a thick, black fog with it, that covered the city itself and a large area around it. Inside it, nobody can deny to hear the whispers of something older then men, and one should not rely on Technology inside, for Radiation is not even close to be the most deadly danger inside the fog. A nightmarish silence layed over the city, muffeling te sound of Industry that roared out from the factories, as the cult once more set fire into the forges for their unholy crusade over the ruins of the USA had just began. From the mist, hosts of ghouls and cultists would send out, eradicating settlements, and raising crude copies of the Monolith where ever they could. Their numbers began to swell with taken slaves, new converts, and the remenents of the MLA, who eagerly joined into the cult, that only valued strength! Bringing great suffering over the land around the Pitt, they expanded quickly, until they were noticed by a power that could threaten their position! 

The Midwest Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel, alarmed by the stories of traumatized survivors, decided to put an end to the cult, with one might strike. An military expedition was send out, quickly gaining ground in the frontier-lands of the cult. Making short work out of the minor local defenders, soon they would reach Cleveland, and with that, walk into an diabolic trap, set out by the blind prophet himself. Encircling them quickly, hordes of Feral Ghouls would beset them on their every step, while constant blasting of heretical preaching out of thousands of speakers would make sleeping impossible. Wittering down their supplies in ammunition, stamina and discipline, the true force, veterans from the war against the East-Coast Chapter of the Brotherhood, and fresh Converts of the Mutant Liberation army, moved in position, hidden away behind walls of bodies, of the slaughtered waves of Ferals. The following battle was a brutal massacre, with few survivors. The Men and Women of the expedition where at their breaking point, deprived of sleep, food and ammunition, and beset from all sides, by fresh, experienced Veterans, well equipped and well aware of all the weak-spots of Power armor. 

In the midst of battle, where most of the Knights and soldiers put up a valiant, yet hopless defense, some gave in to the whispers in the back of their head, falling right into their brothers back. The most prominent of Turncoats was Captain-Paladin Richter, who turned in the midst of battle, breaking the main line of the Brotherhood defense. In the end, only a small handful of the expedition could escape, watching in horror, as their captured Brothers and Sisters in arms, where sacrificed in an grand Ritual to honor Ug-Qualtoth. Till this very day, the city of Cleveland is littered with grim Totems, broken corpses, and nightmarish trophies. And some even say, taht during their stay in the city, they constantly can hear horrible screams of agony, mixed with an inhuman laughter. 

Turning its attention West, the Cult was taken by surpise, as the followers of Atom launched an Crusade to retake the Capital Wasteland and with it, their holy city of Megaton. Richter, who now had taken the name of Zer´g Rilth Hagur, Great-Champion of Ug-Qualtoth, wanted to proof his devotion by crushing the crusade, yet the Blind Prothet denied his request, fearing an Offensive from the Brotherhood, as well as mistrusting the new Great-Champion. And while many minor Warleaders of the Cult, set to met the crusaders, their struggle was finally in vain, as the Capital Wasteland once more was liberated from the cult, yet remained a silent, depopulated place, still scared by the cult, and riddled with mad surivors of their presence. 

Losing the Capital Wasteland was seen as a sign of weakness by many, and unrest began to spread among the members of the Cult. A disgruntled Veteran, Warbringer Harkness, decided to split off from the main cult, and protect the Dunwich building, while keeping on harassing the Children of Atom. Once more, many expected a response from the Blind Prophet, but all they got was silence. 
And while the War of the Hoover Damn was waging at the other sides of the USA, the Cult restablished contact with Point Lookout, welcomed by the swamp Folk, who devoutly accepted the Blind Prophet as Ug-Qualtoth voice on earth. Cleveland at the same time was turned into a Dark Hub of slavery, with the cult selling their weak, and prisoners of war, while eagerly buying sacrifices and potential converts. The Pitt saw great work of architecture, to expand their Factory-Temples, grim sites that consumed coal, ore and slaves alike, to turn them into Steel, weapons, Ammunition, and Machines of War. Like their great enemy to the West, the Cult has preparing for an expansion, waiting for a moment of weakness to exploit!

Population: 460.000

The Cult of Ug-Qualtoth is a Theocratic Hegemony, with the founder of the faith, the Blind Prophet, Antony Dunwich as its leader, and a council of Warleaders below it. The faith itself has no true structure, with countless priests, missionaries and neophytes, spreading the word of the Dark god, far beyond its territory! Beyond that, the land is ruled by a crule system of Slavery, Neo-Feudal oath of loyalty and brute barbarism! An over extended, corrupt and inhuman system of goverment, only held together by the will of the Prophet and the faith in Ug-Qualtoth!

-The blind Prophet:
Born with the name Anthony Dunwich, the blind Proteht is the unquestioned leader of the Cult, and voice of Ug-Qualtoth on earth. Building the cult up from the beginning, he now resides in his Palace in the Pitt, spending most of his days meditating over the Monolith, and listening to the voices in his mind. Leaving most day-by-day business to his Advisers. Feared beyond the realm of the cult, countless stories circulate around about his abilities, and powers, and some claim that he could set people ablaze with a mere swing of his hand. 
--Zer´g Rilth Hagur  (Broken Steel), First-Champion of Ug-Qualtoth:
Formally Captain Paladin Richter, of the Midwest Brotherhood of steel, Zer´g Rilth was a promising soldier, loyal to Barnaky and the idea of Human Purity. Decorated for Valor in the fight against the Mutant Liberation Army, and showing great Leadership potential, the expedition into the Cult held land, was seen as final test before a secure promotion. 
For years, many had believed him to be dead, fallen in an heroic defense to allow his fellow brothers and sisters in arms to escape. It was a shock for them, to find out that their once proud Paladin, had turned into a disciple of the Dark God, Brutally murdering the same men he had lead into battle mere hours ago! But even then, his loyalty was questions, and the Blind Prothet sentenced him to a quest of Penance of five years. Roaming the No-mans land between Ronto, the MWBoS and the Cult, Zer´g Rilth cut a bloody path trough the strong and helpless alike! Assembling his own Host during this time, he returned after five years, with one of the strongest retinue of the whole cult, made up of Former-Raiders, Brotherhood Deserters, Mutants and Abominations of the Wildness, beaten into Submission by the Champion. Taking the place of the Right hand of the Prothet, he is the supreme Master of War of the Cult, and his mere name causes fear among the enemies of the cult. 
-Marie Ashur:
(Without the cybernetics) 
The once greatly promised cure of the affliction of the Pitt had been a spoil of war, when the Cult took the holy city. Still a baby, her parents both had perished in the fighting, and she was close to become a sacrfice herself, if it werent for the intervention of the Blind Prothet. Raising her as his own child, she became the silent watcher at his side, untouched by the ravaging forces that mutated all around her. With not a single sign of mutation on her, and an almost unatural purness on her, Marie Ashur has become the most trusted of servants of the Prothet, and his voice outside of the cult. Negotiating in his name, rumors claim her to be a Psyker, able to control beasts and men alike. 

-Warleader Rog´Resh the Immortal:
Created in Vault 87, in the capital wasteland, Rog´Resh, was among the rare exceptions that were able to maintain their intellect. Holding onto his memories of his former life, as the Raider Boss Roger Ressberg, Rog´Resh quickly was able to rise to a position of leadership among his more simpler brethren! Quick to join the cult, to bring great suffering over the East-Coast Brotherhood of steel, he became the chief Enforcer of the Prothet, long time Great-Champion and his personal Executioner. When he was replaced with Zer´g Rilth Hagur, he left in anger, forming his own Host in the ruins of Fort Wayne, turning the city into his personal Fortress. Still loyal to the Blind Prophet, but disgruntled over some of his decisions, the Warleader keeps his distance from the main cult, and tries his best to remain self sufficient.

Military (try to be somewhat realistic):
The true number of men-at-arms of the cult, is subject to quite an dispute among analysts and Intelligence services of the neighboring states. While some claim that the cult could mobile Hundred of thousands of warriors, the more prudent tactical estimation place the number between 40.000 and 80.000. Due to the nature of Command inside the Cult, it is quite unlikely that even the blind Prophet truly knows the size of his own army. 

At the top of the army stands the Blind Prophet, who in Theory holds total sway over all faithful, yet in reality, barley takes on the burden of Command. At his side stands the First-Champion, who only bows to the great Prophet himself, and a few chosen Great-Champions. Below him are the War-leaders, distinguished Warriors and leaders, who have been given the right to raise their own troops from among the faithful. They are also responsible for keeping them equipped, fed, payed and loyal to the faith. Below that, each Warleader can structure his troops how ever he or she sees it fit, yet most are aware of the needs for a chain of command, and appoint champions and lieutenants from among their warriors. The word of the Warleader is law among his men, yet should a Warleader proof weak or show a lack of faith, his men are free to kill and replace him with a more "Worthy" leader. 

The common warrior of the cult, be it human or mutant, has to proof his strength first, in trails set up by the Warleader, to sort out the weak, before being allowed into his ranks. Warleader Ironface, as an example, demands that all the potential recruits are amassed in a great arena, to fight each other to the death, under the constant cheering of her own warband. Warleader Harkon demands that all his recruits are send unarmed into the tunnels below the Pitt, and only allowed to leave, if they return with the head of a feral Ghoul.   
Beyond these "Welcoming" rites, the training the Warriors receive is quite deadly, which leads to a high mortality rate, yet also makes the Veterans of the Cult incredibly dangerous Opponents.

It had been quite a suprise for the Brotherhood, that the Cult not only was able to maintain its weapons, but also produce a "semi-standardized" Equipment. The Industrial Capacities of the Pitt are fully used to arm its warriors, mass-producing their weapons, ammunition and Supply. 

The main weaponry are the primitive, yet highly reliant Assault-rifles, simply called "Cutter", while crude Blades are equally handed out next to them, for Ug-Qualtoth finds great pleasure in the close-combat slaughter. A metal chest piece is also quite often handed out, yet its heavy weigh often leads to the warriors choosing to trust in faith, rather then the metal. 

Another quite often handed out piece of equipment are rough gas-masks, made out of cloth, rubber or leather. Yet rather then to filter the air the Cultists breath, it instead mixes the air with the Miasma of the Monolith. Even through the Enclave and the Brotherhood already have made multiple attempts of explaining this, neither side could find out any benefits from this factor....and both sides decided no longer to continue the experimentation, after strange whispers would fill the heads of all who had breathed in the Miasma.  

Expanding and rebuilding many Factories inside the Pitt, the Cult was able to scavange old Pre-War plans for Machinery of War, and reworking some of them for the new world around them. Scavenging wrecks of cars and trucks, the Cult was able to begin a mass-production of their "Marauder" Tank, a crude, yet fast and easy to maintain Line-breaker. Next to it are crude pieces of Pre-War Artillery as well, a newly build assets, which are highly wanted by the different Warleaders.     

Typical Warriors of the Cult

Nobody that ever had fought with the cult of Ug-Qualtoth can deny that they are unlike any other Opponent ever faced before. Where they go, Madness and darkness follows, when they leave, death and silence remain. They are no raiders to plunder a city, no horde to conquer a city and no cannibals to devour it....they are bloodhounds of something dark and ancient! 

Feral Ghouls, Troggs and other abominations follow their warriors, like dogs, and throw themselves into the fray, unlike anyone ever has seen them do before! The warriors of the cult, high on the Miasma of the Monolith, fear no pain nor death, and their frenzy knows no bounds! Defenders against these hordes can often hear whispers or screams in the back of their heads, and it is common for some to give into the sweet offerings that are whispered between them, to join the ravaging horde.

Even before the arrival of the Cult of Ug-Qualtoth, the Pitt had no lack for nightmarish places, yet with the raising of the Monolith in its center, the city has turned into an incarnated Terror on the surface. But the worst fate a slave can receive in the Pitt, is to be send below! For it is here, where the Cult breeds its beast of war, and experiments with flesh. Some claim that they were able to capture the FEV from the Capital Wasteland, while see the Radiation of the Pitt as the main cause for the rapid change of animals, humans and beasts alike. Yet one has to ask himself, why all these beasts fear the Monolith that much, that wince in agony, when the runes of the Krivbeknih are painted onto their skin before battle. 

The most stable and wiedly used Creation of the Cult is the Riding-Rat, a gigantic mole rat, able to carry multiple men at once. Used as a beast of burden or war, their number is still relatively low, yet they breed rapidly. Beside that, Failed experiments are often used as Cannon fodder or Shock troops, to overwhelm enemies, or at beasts of the Fighting Pits.

Before the Pitt was taken by the Cult, it more resembled a swarm of locust, rather then a substaible economy. This changed, when the Pitt was turned into the Holy City of the faith, and its industrial Capacities where sized by the cult. Now, the smelters, Workshops and Factories work day and night, as constant streams of Coal, Ore and Slaves are Consumed by the city. Being the biggest producer of raw steel in all of the north the north and still enough metal to be scrapped to support its industry for centuries, the Cult has barley even scratched the full potential of the Pitt. 
Beyond that, there is little in terms of industry around the Pitt. To support and feed its population, enormous Plantation have been created, where slaves harvest a black mutation of Razorgrain, and large pens where all kinds of livestock are breed and slaughtered. This cattle-culter has reached a size, large enough to make sure that the Allegheny River runs black with the blood of the livestock. Among the most popular cattle are Rad-roaches, giant-ants and Bloatflies, as the "traditional" cattle of the post-apocalyptic america, the Brahmin seldom last long near the city of the Pitt, often falling to Madness, or a strange, flesh eating sickness, that leaves them hallow husks.
Slaves are the common, and abundant workforce of the Cult, made up of captives of raids, bought from outside, or unlucky converts who proofed to weak to be useful for anything else. Working in the factories, the Farms or in large, chain-gangs that scavenge under the watchful eyes of so call "Pack-masters" they are the solid base of the cult, and substain it.  

To the suprise of many, the Cult is more then happy to trade with outsiders, offering Steel, weapons and Ammunition for Luxury Goods, Candles and Slaves. Maintaining a large Trade Hub in Cleveland, and a minor one in Point Lookout, "Other Good" are also exchanged. Rumors of black statures, who weep tears of blood, books that whisper and the night, and glowing Amulets are not unheard off. With that Trade often come Missonaries, spreading the word of Ug-Qualtoth to all who can hear it!

The Culture of the Cult is intertwined with its faith, as it dominants almost every aspect of daily life. Nobody who has ever layed eyes onto the Monolith can deny the existence of Ug-Qualtoth, and few are able to resist the temptation to worship it. 
All who can provide for the cult, and proof that they can take care for themselves, can have a life in security, protected by the Warbands of the Cult, and the knowledge that they are part of the chosen of Ug-Qualtoth, secure from the dangers of the Wasteland. The Morals of the Old world have been abandoned, and the only Law is that of the Prophet. Polygamy, Drug-Abuse and murder, are common for the members of the Cult, yet they still remain humans at heart, and most see that at least some kind of Status Quo in terms of violence towards each other has to be maintainted. As such, most are content with simply watching the Battles in the fighting pit, and leave the combat to the Warriors of the warband, while going on with their daily lives in peace. 
To be a slave in the cult is a different story, and a nightmarish, painful and mostly short existence. Branded with the Dark runes, equiped with a slave collar, and send to the most dangerous of tasks, few can escape this lot! Yet the ones who do, often do so by joining the Trails to become a warrior, either winning their freedom, or die trying! 
Mutants are seen as the will of Ug-Qualtoth desire for change, and are welcome into the ranks of the Cult! Ghouls are even seen as the chosen people of the dark god, and are often seen as a sign of good luck. Yet all life is equally worthless in the eye of the Dark God, and a weak mutant is just as likely to end up as a slave as a weak human!  

In terms of Technology has the Cult quite a twisted standing. While openly mocking it, they are not above using it, yet mostly lack the knowledge and skill to create more advanced machinery. Skilled scavengers and insidious Engineers, the Workmasters of the Cult are known for their Simple, yet resilient constructions, easy to copy and mass produce, while constantly trying to repair pre-war machinery, once more using them for the glory of the cult! From simple cars, to power armor, the cult often finds a way to return it to a working state, and use it to advance it goals. This has lead other fractions to rather destroy their equipment, then to let it fall into the hands of the cultist!

"Faithful... enlightened... ambitious... brethren.

In but a few years, a few mere swipes of the pendulum, we have gathered a sacrifice to Ug-Qualtoth that will be made legend.

Though it was a simpler, weaker voice that illuminated me during my travels the swamps of Point Lookout...

...it was Ug-Qualtoth's messenger who showed me the true path of freedom from our pathetic Existance.

And what is this path? This meaning, this purpose to which we gather the skulls of our foes?

It is nothing. There is no meaning, no purpose. We murder. We kill. It is mindless savagery, this UNIVERSE IS MINDLESS!

In mere hours, hundreds will die. Innocent! Guilty! Strong and weak! Honest and deceitful! ALL of them!

They will scream, they will burn, and for no purpose but that mighty Ug-Qualtoth may revel in their bloodshed!

And united in this void of purpose, fear, or duty... we shall at long last be free!

Spill Blood for the Dark God! Corpses for his Kingdom! LET THE WORLD BURN!"

Recorded Preaching of the Blind Prophet, send minutes before the main attack on Cleveland

In What if Spam was trapped on an island? → 8 yrs ago Forum: Spam Forum

@Kratesis
Minor details! Beside, all we need to do is to trust into the power of the free market and capitalism! 
What i want to say, lets get us some monkey babies and send them into the mines, before starting our own sweatshops to outproduce the communist bloc on our Island! 

In What if Spam was trapped on an island? → 8 yrs ago Forum: Spam Forum

@Kratesis
>trade them to the communists
>trade
>to
>communists

Mate, the only thing we trade with the red menace are bullets! And coke, cars and other luxury shit for the red elite!

BBCode Cheatsheet

Elgappa Member

Status

Recent Statuses

Bio

Most Recent Posts