Kouropalates

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Adam 'Trails' Wilford- Outside Adam's seaside home

Adam had rubbed his brow at the crude set up, using an old car as his base for the rope when he came back to shore. He paddled the boat slowly in the morning sun, the smell of the sea wafting pleasantly in his nose. When he touched the boat, he jumped on deck to look around the boat to see if he could find any holes needing patching before he began. He did find a small tear, but nothing too deep and welded a small sheet of scrap metal he'd brought along. When that was done, he tied his ropes to the ship and checked to make sure they were securely in place with a few hard yanks and tugs. Satisfied, he jumped into the small rowboat and made his way back to shore with the rope. He listened to the gulls squawking noisily as he reached the shore and walked up the mud and winched the rope through the car, to keep the ship in place in case they lost grip on the ropes and he then tied the ropes to Bessie. "Alright girl, MUSH!" He slapped Bessie on the ass and she began to pull with all her might and so did he. He grunted and pulled, his gloved hands slipping but regaining a slow grip with each slip soon after. "Alright, stop...stop......stop." He leaned forward, wiping sweat from his brow and pushing back the matted mop of hair in his face. They'd made some progress, but they looked to be at it all day at this rate, or possibly even tomorrow. He sat in the dirt to try and recoup when a big shadow overtook him. Adam looked up with a hand over his eyes, thinking the sun had gone cloudy. “Rook is here. Let's get boat pulled up so you can start working on it.” Adam smiled with a worn out look and extended his hand to Rook's, "Welcome aboard, big man.". Adam turned to the jury rigged winch, "We've got the boat about...well...one/fifth of the way here. But with you here, we should be done in the next few hours.". He moved about to the other side of the winch system and pointed to a spot on the other side of the car as his energy was slowly coming back. "So, you will pull here in front. I will help feed the rope through this...uh...car...winch....thing and Bessie will pull it from her side. As she pulls, the rope tightens so if you lose your grip, we won't lose progress, see?" With that, Adam turned and yelled, 'Go, girl!' and she began to pull as he gave Rook a friendly pat on the back and the two began the process of pulling the boat to shore.

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Adam 'Trails' Wilford- Outside Adam's seaside home

“Let Rook understand this... You want to pull over old boat to bring food to the town. Rook gets that, but why wake up Rook in middle of the night. This can wait for morning, Rook thinks so. Rook will help you tomorrow, but it will need to wait until after Rook has restarted work on Wall. While boat is helpful, boat doesn't keep out raiders. Yet...” Adam chuckled a mischievous little chuckle at Rook's annoyance. "Sorry to get you down there, but you gotta dream big if you want to get anything done in life." He stepped back over to the rails, extending his arms outward. "THIS will be a game changer, Rook. It's no wall or big-ass turrets, naw. But think about it. We'll be abundant in fish and shelled foods. Just imagine the trade power that'd bring this town." He turned back to the big mutant, "So, what do you say, hoss? You in?" Rook's only reply, understandably, was, “Tomorrow.” then he walked away from Adam back to his shack on the other side of town. Adam walked over to Bessie and pat both heads and gave each head a kiss on the forehead before heading inside, rolling the metal door shut and calling it a night. He unbuttoned his jacket and pants, leaving him in shorts and an undershirt. Adam yawned and knelt down, covering himself in his bedroll. His eyes closed and soon he was reliving old memories again.

Dawn

Adam yawned and rolled out from his bedroll. He put on a pair of jeans and stepped outside, checking to make sure no one else was around, he unzipped and took a morning leak near the rocks, sighing in relief. Finishing with a shake, he went back inside a put a bottle of water into a pan, putting it over a hotplate. Digging through his pouches, he found the grounded coffee and poured it in too. While he waited for it to cook, Adam headed out to Bessie's post and looked beside her boxes. "Hey girl, you know where that old radio is?" He asked, digging through the crates. "Ah, gotcha!" He found his old Radiation King radio and began scanning the local stations until it landed on a 'Diamond City Radio'. He'd never been there, but he'd heard talk of it. Apparently based out of some old baseball field. He put it in the right hand corner of his shack, the music echoing through the shed as the cool of the morning air emanated through the old broken windows. Judging by the windows, they probably broke in a storm long ago. But he shrugged off the thought digging through his boxes back outside muttering to himself. "Rope? Need that. Blowtorch....blow...ah! Might need you too. Fancy Lads? Good snack. Need them as a reward. Cat's Paw magazine? I'll..uh...need that later...", he discreetly tucked that back in the bottom of the crate. "Toolbox.....check. Old Pipboy 2000? Junk." He chucked it far over the way towards the town. "Alright, so I got the essentials. Just tuck you bad boys in the row boat for later.". Adam went back inside and poured a cup of coffee from the pan into a mug and sat outside on an old milk crate, his bare feet gently running his toes in the sandy dirt as he absently admired the beauty of the town in the sunrise, feeling an odd sense of peace. He was on the cusp of turning 43 and he'd spent 24-25 of those on the road as a drifter. To settle down like this, so far from home, it was unexpected to say the least. On the other hand, it felt right. He had a good feeling about this place, like in the end everything would turn out okay.

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Adam 'Trails' Wilford- Rook's Shack

Adam had been knocking fervently on Rook's door on autopilot and accidentally knocked his hand on Rook's armor in his excitement and pulled it bank in pain, "Ow!" Adam stepped back, "Hey there, big man.". Rook was looking down on him, “Trader man? What wrong? Rook is here. Is town under attack? Does Rook need to kill more Mirelurks to help protect town?” Rook asked. “Does Rook need to fight more bad creatures!?" Adam looked confused, "Mirelurk? Those crab things? What? Oh, no. I have something better! Come look! It's over by my place, the small warehouse on the other side of town!" Adam turned away, sprinting eagerly back home.

When Adam got back, he'd waited for Rook with the excitement of a child. "Rook! I know it's late, but you need to see this!" Adam looked out and pointed, holding out his binoculars for Rook to use. "It's a boat! And best of all it looks like it's still usable." He then pulled out a small notepad and scribbled on the paper, then looked to Rook. "Now, I know I got a little ahead of myself, but here's what I reckon we can do." He then held up the notepad and pointed at the crude diagram. "Now, I don't know if you guys can swim or sink like stones, so I came up with a plan. Either we use a small paddle boat or I just swim out there. We put a bunch of rope in the boat or I wrap it around me, then tie it onto the boat's mooring line, well, where it should go. I paddle or swim back here. Now, from there, I figure you, me and Bessie there can all pull and after a while, she'll be brought to the shoreline and I can get her fixed up. Can you imagine it, Rook? We'll be able to get a good fishing business up and running for the town. As for you, I'd be permanently in your debt for the help. I'm thinking a nice crate or a barrel full of whatever we catch for free might be good incentive. Not right now though, it's a little late for that. But maybe in the morning or afternoon tomorrow. What do you say, big man? Sound like a plan?"

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

@Kouropalatesa lot would advise against running into a shack with a slumbering super mutant

@2sky11

Hahaha, well, my character is quite an impulsive type. Plus, he's unfamiliar with them on a personal level, lol.

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Adam 'Trails' Wilford- Ace's Diner

Adam had been looking up at the big man, well, mutant he supposed, as he spoke, “Yes, Rook is Rook. Rook made his armor and weapon, but those are back at his shack.” Rook had grasped his hand, like a grown man to a newborn's, and shook it. “Rook would like to make armor fit better, maybe replace some old parts that have worn out. Rook once had chest plate of the armor the Tin Men wear while not far from the Pitt. It was in a place called 'Depot.'” Adam's eyes furrowed as he looked at Rook's shoulders, "Hmmmm. Well, I reckon we could do something here." He gave a knock on the pauldrons with the back of his hands. "Maybe make them interchangeable so when you know you need to go to battle or you're in the Wastes, you can wear spiked shoulders. A big man like you could gore most anything with those and, all else failing, at the least you'd severely wound them." Adam twisted his jaw as he observed Rook's armor as Rook continued, “Rook traded it long ago however to get welding materials to help repair walls of a town. Rook wishes he could find armor like that again, or even make it! Rook would be able to stop all the bad things in the wastelands with armor like that. Rook is a Paladin of the Wastelands, that is what the old woman in red told Rook.” Adam could only chuckle, "A big ox like you? I could see that, but I don't think they make Power Armor in your size, hoss. But that ain't no reason for you not to make something just as good."

Adam took a bite of his steak when Rook spoke up again, “Does man know how to make gates out of big metal machines from before bombs? Rook has seen other places use them, but never understood how they worked. Rook was thinking of bring up old containers from water to use as wall materials, but Rook will need a lot of help with that. Rook is only so strong." Adam frowned, "Fraid not, big man. I can help weld a wall, put things together and all that. But I'm no inventor. I guess we could take a garage door of some kind and use that to slide the door up and down. Maybe like those old castles in books, you know? As for you suggestion of boxes, sure. I could probably help you out, Bessie too."

As Ace began to close down the diner, Adam nodded and remembered to place a stack of 10 caps on the counter as a tip for the good service. He untied Bessie from a nearby post and led her along. He stepped out into the evening air and led her along the eastern waterfront and sang softly to himself. "But I guess you count your blessings with the problems that you're dealing with today...." He trailed off as he went past a small warehouse unused. It was just a small square room, but it was all the home he'd need. The interior was very nice, just needed to clean out the rubble on the ground and it'd be a perfect small home. He dragged an old wooden beer crate inside, unslung his weapons and his pack beside him to sit under the window, the moonlight peering in. He dug through his pocket until he found the small metal makeup box he kept safe at all times. He unclipped the latch and opened it, smiling sadly. Inside was an old Codac camera picture of him and his family. He caressed each face with a sad longing and said softly, sadly, "I wish you all could see how far from home I've come." He closed the latch and put it back in a pocket and stood outside with Bessie, rubbing her heads. "Hey girls. You two getting sleepy yet?" He kissed each head and undid the bundle of ropes and latches on their backs and began to pile his goods beside the door. He didn't have much need for them, but he always took off Bessie's burdens each night.

As the hours passed, so had his energy as he swept out all the dust and rubble. Now it was clear enough for his bedroll and hotplate as well as a few odds and ends. He stood out in the cool night breeze and fed Bessie her meals. "Here you go girls. You know daddy always gets you the good food, huh?" They mooed happily at the delicious quality of Ace's vegetables. Adam smiled contently and went to lean on the rails overlooking the ocean. He saw something out in the pale of the moon, but couldn't make it out clearly. Digging into his pouch, he grabbed his binoculars to get a better look and his jaws dropped. Adam's only thought was the only man he could think of who could help, Rook.

Adam ran through town and to Rook's coastal shack, all the while screaming 'Rook!', likely rudely waking others from their slumber, but it didn't matter. He was out of breath and began knocking on the door, "Rook! Rook! Get out here, man! I need your help!"

War Never Changes

Raging Bear, Kodiak Commander- Kodiak Airport
Commander Bear looked at the Scribe who'd introduced herself as 'Nakamura' with suspicion and shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I'm not authorized to accept that. You'll need to talk to the Boss or be directed to whoever's the contract handler when you get to the Mother Base. Get in the back of the supply truck and they'll take you to base via boat." He pointed a hand to the supply truck and the bear fur clad soldiers who only watched silently through their goggles.

The mechanic driving the truck nodded to the Scribe as she hopped in the cab while the other soldiers got in the bed of the truck. "I apologize if the Old Bear wasn't too kind to you. You have to understand, we take in troops from all over. He deserted some Brotherhood Chapter in, errrr, Washington? Or was it Oregon? Well, anyway, he gets wary of other former family picking a fight with him. He's a good man otherwise. That Brotherhood discipline makes him a good leader." He quieted down and put in an old holotape to kill the silence. After a short trip, they finally arrived. "Here we are, folks. The boats to our home. Arctic Haven."

Arctic Haven, AKA Mother Base

Commander Fulman stood looking out of the window of the old Base Commander's office in the admin building overseeing the smooth chains and gears of their organization at work. Soldiers marching in formations, in the far end of the base he could see the troops at work in their war games, in this case, practicing against a decommissioned tank. A few vertibirds were moving in and out over the hours when the radio at his shoulder came to life. "Come in, Boss. This is Base Transport, do you copy?" John nodded to no one who could see, "I do. What is it?" The voice on the other end sounded hesitant, "It's the, er, the Brotherhood sir. They've come with some kind of payment and they've come for the weapon, sir." John frowned, "I see. And they're almost to the dock?" The woman hesitated again, "Well, we're only feet from the dock to Base. We've already followed proper protocol, but this felt like something you s-" "Enough. Have them sent to admin. And have those elites who escorted them go to the warehouse. And Support?" A third wave of hesitation emanated, "S-Sir?" "You should have alerted me to the Brotherhood's presence before they got on the damn boat. Now drop and give me fifty 8 counts, then go back to your assigned tasks. Over and out."

John put on his winterized overcoat, really just recycled Pre-War Officer's gear, and descended the stairs of the Admin building and light a cigar in the doorway before heading out into the wind of the morning. The jeep soon pulled up the drive to the heavy oak doors of the Admin building, dropping off the Brotherhood escort and the Scribe. "I'm John Fulman, commander of the Arctic Haven forces. It's good to meet you, Scribe.....?"

As they arrived at the silo housing....it...John sighed a heavy sigh, "Let's head inside." Two soldiers in winterized T-45d Power Armor watched the door vigilantly and saluted sharply when John approached. "Clearance Code OC-23-77", John stated then the camera above the door robotically pinged "Access Granted." They descended a muddy stair going straight down. "My apologies for the mess. Apparently there's a waterleak or snow melts into the place and it's built up over time. We don't allow anyone in here, nukes are like the worst apple in the garden of Eden and too many men are tempted to bite in." They went down a hall with a flickering light overhead and when John pushed open a rusted metallic sealing door, the room opened into a poorly lit expanse, overlooking the silo and its payload. "Pardon the lights, we've only been able to get the place up the 37% capacity, the back up generator's apparently been on before and blown a fuse or two and the power generator that should be running this place is shot to shit and we don't have anyone familiar with nuclear reactor technology. Lights are minimally and selectively on in here, mostly rooms we'll use while you're here. The rest of what power does flow is to the silo blast doors. And here she is, the beast herself." He stopped just before the balcony rails and waved his arms across the expanse of the room. Upon approaching the edge, it was clear as day even in this dimness, the raw and merciless power of a warhead before the assembled tour's eyes. John clenched his jaw, "As much as I hate to say this, you have to respect the aura of power the very sight of it reverberates."

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Adam 'Trails' Wilford- Ace's diner

Adam sat at the bar and decided to sit quietly and eat with an absent look but keeping his ears open as he thought over Ace's words on housing, deciding to give the town a hunt for real estate. As he cut into his steak quietly, he overheard what he assumed to be a flirty couple, but a hulking lug of a....whatever he is, some kind of mutant according to Ace, calling itself Rook seemed to be enjoying a beer and he slowly crooked his head at him for a look. He subtly eyed him up and down, between his height and his armor, he was definitely walking tall, that's for sure. Adam got up, forgetting his dish and stood close to this 'Rook' and looking him up and down curiously as if he were some kind of unfamiliar statue, taking in every detail. He then decided to introduce himself, "Hi. I'm Adam Wilford, some call me 'Trails' too." He put his hand out to the giant, "I believe I caught your name was Rook?" Adam slowly cocked a friendly smirk, "If you're a Rook, I'd be worried to imagine the size of the King and Queen." He then put out a hand, knocking at the plates on his body. "Nice suit of armor you got on. You make it yourself? Not bad craftsmanship. Not great, but not bad either. You ever want some tinkering to it, be glad to make some modifications to it for you. No charge. Tinkering, salvaging and farming are all a hobby to me."

(Edit: Small changes now to add details of Sky's post. Post finished)

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Adam Wilford

Name: Adam 'Trails' Wilford

Age: 42

Race/Gender: Caucasian/ Male

Brief physical description: (Physically, he's more or less modeled on a younger Kris Kristofferson) Slight age in his face, greying brown hair and a rough beard with a little grey in his beard. Wears his worn trader's clothes with its many pockets and restitched pouches. He also wears jeans worn with age use and a hip holster where he keeps his 10mm. He wears worn leather boots that have borne him from all over the country.

Clothing/Armor/Weapons: He basically wears these clothes from the game and a bulletproof vest underneath the jacket for protection as well as a knee brace on his right knee for shooting situations. On his back is an old M40 Sniper Rifle on his back for long range engagements.

Brief Background: Born in rural Mississippi, his life in the Apocalypse wasn't exciting or scary. He helped raise the chickens, the Brahmin and grew fruit on the farm like his dad, his grandfather before him. At the age of 18, he realized he needed to see the world and spoke of his dreams to his family. Instead of fighting it, his father smiled and went in the house, bringing his prized joy, the family heirloom; an M40 Sniper Rifle from some long dead ancestor. His father also offered him one Brahmin to trade for goods. On the road however, Adam learned his Brahmin, which he'd named Bessie, was far more use as a pack-mule than trading her. He spent the next 30+ years of his life traveling up and down the South, over and below the old Mason-Dixon line and eventually found his way to D.C. and, finally, to Boston. Eventually, the trails of the Old World brought him to Salem. It was a quiet enough town, good enough to settle in, sell his wares and live a settled life with Bessie, his rifle and his old country music Holotapes.

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Adam 'Trails' Wilford

Adam walked along the old highways and roads of Massachusetts and had found himself trading with a small town called Sanctuary Hills and had scored a nice haul in caps. "I tell you, Bessie, these northerners don't realize how good and fat it is around here. 200 Caps will last us a long time!" He pat Bessie on the side as his boots crunched alongside Bessie's hooves while he took a deep swig out of a fresh bottle of whiskey. When he arrived to the town of Salem, the guards warned him of no funny business almost right away and Adam could only chuckle. "Son, look at me. I'm a drunken trader whose only friend's a Brahmin, ain't that right, Bessie?" She mooed a confirming moo as if in answer. "See, we ain't looking for trouble, mister. We're just in town to trade, maybe settle in a while." The guards sighed and waved him through, obviously ready to be done with him. As he walked by the guard, he smiled at him and stopped, putting his bottle in the man's pouch. "Consider that my token of good faith, hoss. Friends?" He chuckled and pat the man on the back before making his way into town. "Well I'll be a Radroaches uncle. I expected a bunch of tin shacks like a couple backwoods rednecks. They got a proper town growing here. This'll be a fun adventure, girl." Looking about the town as he walked, he found what looked like to be a pre-war diner, still in use too. He couldn't find a spot to stick the rope to, so he put Bessie in a parking spot like she was some ol' Corvega. "You stay there, like a good girl. I'm getting some food for us, some vegetables for you and some steak for me, alright?" Her moo was an accusatory tone, to which Adam scoffed, "Don't play this game, girl, you know I ain't ever gonna eat you, sweetheart. But a man's gotta eat all the same." He turned and kicked his feet on the concrete to wipe the dust off and pushed the door open, the bell ringing overhead. He looked around and smiled, 'Nice place', he thought to himself as he sat at the counter. "Howdy, tell the cook I'll take a side of beef, some vegetables for me, a few for Bessie," He hiked a hand out the window behind him to his Brahmin, "and give me a cold glass of milk please." He dug into one of his infinite collections of pockets for a handful of caps and looked back up, "By the way, know any cheap places to rest my head? Or any unused houses? I'll take either to be honest."

((OOC: Whether his Brahmin is actually smart enough to pick up and understand things he says is up for debate and it's mostly how he's hearing it so he responds accordingly. Anyone who wants to chit-chat with Adam is more than welcome to if they want.))

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Name: Adam 'Trails' Wilford

Age: 42

Race/Gender: Caucasian/ Male

Brief physical description: Slight age in his face, greying brown hair and a rough beard with a little grey in his beard. Wears his worn trader's clothes with its many pockets and restitched pouches. He also wears jeans worn with age use and a hip holster where he keeps his 10mm. He wears worn leather boots that have borne him from all over the country.

Clothing/Armor/Weapons: He basically wears these clothes from the game and a bulletproof vest underneath the jacket for protection as well as a knee brace on his right knee for shooting situations. On his back is an old M40 Sniper Rifle on his back for long range engagements.

Brief Background: Born in rural Mississippi, his life in the Apocalypse wasn't exciting or scary. He helped raise the chickens, the Brahmin and grew fruit on the farm like his dad, his grandfather before him. At the age of 18, he realized he needed to see the world and spoke of his dreams to his family. Instead of fighting it, his father smiled and went in the house, bringing his prized joy, the family heirloom; an M40 Sniper Rifle from some long dead ancestor. His father also offered him one Brahmin to trade for goods. On the road however, Adam learned his Brahmin, which he'd named Bessie, was far more use as a pack-mule than trading her. He spent the next 30+ years of his life traveling up and down the South, over and below the old Mason-Dixon line and eventually found his way to D.C. and, finally, to Boston. Eventually, the trails of the Old World brought him to Salem. It was a quiet enough town, good enough to settle in, sell his wares and live a settled life with Bessie, his rifle and his old country music Holotapes.