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    1. Malta307 8 yrs ago

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@Tiberius67
Marcus Renault
"We have a contract offer for your group", Johnson said quietly as he passed Renault a folder, then returned to his mashed potatoes. "Rear-area security, no offensive operations will be involved. Initial term is 90 days, with option to extend as necessary. The AO is sensitive, but we have good relations with the host government and there will be no trouble unless they are provoked. Details are inside."

Renault sat back and smiled, he may not like the human interaction too much but he was a mean sell. The Angels of War have been running short on spare parts for their vertibirds and P-60s as well as raw materials. Gold never hurts. He decided that he wanted at least a hundred pounds of gold and whatever else he could get thrown in to accept the contract.
He started the bidding,
"Five hundred pounds of gold."

"Fifty, and some vertibird parts."

"Not good enough. Two hundred and a shipping container full of vertibird parts, mint condition."
The man's eyes narrowed before replying,
"One hundred and the parts."
The corners of Renault's mouth barely curled up into a smile, he had the man right where he wanted him.
"Throw in a ton of aircraft grade aluminum and you have yourself a deal."
He held his hand up towards the man over the table, waiting a moment for the other man to shake it.
Renault and Lenix sat together letting the various sounds and sights of the conference wash over them but caring about little of it. The NCR had declared war on the Legion, what seemed like dozens of new delegates have shown up, and now Renault spotted a middle-aged woman carefully skirting a brawl that had broken out between the NCR's body double and someone he couldn't identify. He could also tell that he had upset one of the very strange diplomats, one of the cultists of Ug-Qualtoth. The man was clearly angry with him, though Renault wasn't sure why. Renault was also very interested in a woman only wearing tape covering her extremities looking like she had just walked out of a prewar model magazine.

Both men were interested in the war declaration as it meant the Angels of War would be able to sell far more weaponry than they did in the arms race that was created by the Treaty of Goodsprings. Such a power vacuum did little to stabilize a region and their fat profit margins had shown that.
"Incoming, three o'clock." Renault whispered to the physically older, yet technically younger commander beside him.
A discreet look told Lenix everything he needed to know.
"Miss Angela Riviera, governor of New Austin. Ally."
Renault pulled a small brown flask out of the chest pocket of his trench coat and opened it, letting the scent of two hundred year old Russian vodka wash over him. This was far better than any alcohol that he'd ever had from after the war that killed the human race.0. He had kept this flask, a gift from his mother upon entering the USMC back before the war on his person most of his adult life. He took a sip and let a smile wash over his face. He would need his flask to get through this meeting but he knew he had to ration what little vodka he had left as he had drained nearly a third of it during the last war before the Treaty of Goodsprings allowed him to try to settle down.

"I'm governor Riviera of New Austin." The woman's skin was a soft light brown and her hair was straight but it hung strangely on one side, as if something was missing. Her posture was different than most of the people in here, instead of the high and mighty of the politicians that made up most of the people in the room she carried herself like a soldier.She held out her hand to shake, "Texas wants you to come talk business with the Keys. With the unstable situation in the west we're thinking it'd be best of we made sure our relationship was firm."

Both men stood and shook her hand, First Lenix, then Renault. The two men looked at each other and silently argued which one had to entertain the diplomats. While they were good allies, neither man was much for conversation. Both believed in the word of the sword more than the word of the pen. Lenix rolled his eyes after a moment and stood to follow Miss Riviera back to where he saw the other Texan delegates speaking to a Keys delegate. Lenix hoped his compatriot wouldn't find a way to get into trouble while he was gone as was generally the case. Last time he left the pre-war veteran alone he ended up blowing up a weapons warehouse while he was still inside.

Lenix took a deep breath as he stepped past the brawl on the floor, resisting the urge to pull the offenders apart and teach them both how to fight properly the hard way. The NCR's double was on top of some woman and hitting her in the face while a steel chopstick stuck out of his shoulder. Lenix turned away once he was no longer within punching distance and started towards the other delegates.

"Friends! What a nice day for a war don't you think?" He enthusiastically shook the hand of every delegate in the small cluster from Texas and the Keys while faking a bright smile that widely split his weathered face. He looked towards the Texan delegates and says,
"Our relations with the Confederation of Free Texan States are as strong and firm as ever, inseparable allies I'd say. We had your back in the last war and you've had ours ever since and we think it would be in our best interest for us to continue this policy.

Meanwhile, Renault was bored. Really bored. He wanted to get drunk and do things he would later regret, but business came first. He pulled a small piece of paper out of his back pocket and wrote 'Guns for hire, terms negotiable' on it and set it on the table pointed towards the center of the table. He tapped his fingers on the nice wood as he whittled away the seconds until he had something interesting to do.
Marcus Renault awoke slowly as the sun peeked over the horizon and shined onto the mirror that Renault uses as an alarm clock. He set it so the mirror faces the horizon and shines the sun directly into his eyes as it crests the horizon, something he regrets every morning. He sat up and yawned loudly before standing and doing his morning stretches. Before the war his girlfriend had been big into gymnastics and he found that being limber was a great boon in combat as well.
As he was stretching his hamstrings a man barged through the door and stood at attention in the doorway.

“What?” Renault demanded angrily.

“The Senate has decided that you and Lenix will be flying to New Vegas in the P-60 fighter craft to participate in the First American Conference. Planes are being prepped as we speak. Lenix is waiting for you in the mess hall.”

The man promptly spun on his heel and walked away as Renault pulled on a plain white T-shirt and black cargo pants under a black trench coat and quickly finished his stretches.
Why does it have to be me? Can't they just send Lenix and be done with it? Renault thought to himself as he stepped out of his room deep inside the bunkers buried under the massive fortress that was Fallback Alcatraz.

This base has had stood up to any invasion since before the Great War and this conference could possibly determine whether it must weather another. When the others had awoken early seventy years in the past they told him they had found the base in ruins, the seawall crumbling and many of the fortifications destroyed or irradiated beyond salvage. Today, the base is reminiscent of its prewar glory with artillery and troops manning the battlements once again.

Renault finally reached the mouth of the bunker complex and nodded to the gate guard stationed in his booth who then pressed a few buttons and turned a key on a big panel which sounded the door alarm. It was loud and abrasive as Renault waited for the large steel door not unlike a vault door to slide out of its place. It made a high pitched squealing sound as steel the steel door pulled into the room and rolled out of the way to reveal blinding sunshine and a blast of sweltering, humid sea air struck Renault like a wall.

Instantly he started to sweat as he walked through a courtyard that was outside of the bunker doors to see a platoon of infantry training drill. They marched in perfect unison around the courtyard but stopped to salute him as he strode past. He noticed they all wore the skull patch of the 8th Infantry Battalion.

The 8th. Fine men. They fought hard under my command during the War for Hoover Dam.

He saluted them back and continued on his way. He saw many artillery pieces sitting pointed out to sea, though he could barely remember the last time they were used. Renault could smell the mess hall before he saw it, it had the familiar aroma of cooking meat and the sound of animated chatter that was associated with good food and good friends. The mess hall was a squat single story building that was made of concrete with a corrugated metal roof that gently curved like a parentheses mark.

Renault strode in and immediately saw John Lenix sitting at the officer table eating a slice of bacon with french toast sitting on his plate. The man was in his mid fifties with silver hair and wearing a simple gray suit without a tie. The mess hall was about half full of men eating and joking while the unlucky boys who got kitchen duty were still back there cooking. Everyone in the military got a ration card every month with enough dots for three meals a day for 32 days a month as part of their pay. Every time they came in for a meal they would get one dot punched out and got that meal. Anyone who wanted more food than they had dots would pay for the food in caps. Renault got himself his breakfast and sat next to Lenix at the table and began to scarf his food down.

“You should enjoy your food while you can kid. When war breaks out again food will be scarce and you'll miss the taste of a good slice of Brahmin bacon.”

“ We don't have time to waste enjoying our food Lenix, we can’t be late for that convention. Besides, how are you so sure that War will break out again?”

“We've been selling weapons by the crateload and our Infiltrators have been reporting massive buildups of troops and supplies, especially by the NCR and the Legion.”

“So? We’ve done it too but we aren't looking to pick a fight with anyone.”

Lenix sighed heavily and finished his food before setting his plate in the dish sink and washing his hands. Renault hurriedly did the same and followed the older man as he walked towards the hangar. The four P-60 fighter-bombers were beautiful and sleek as they taxied out onto the runway, their rumbling engines dominating the air. Each plane generally carried six .50 caliber machine guns and a pair of one hundred pound bombs but today was different. Each plane has a crew of two men but today each one had a pilot and a passenger, a Republican Guard without power armor and an Infiltrator rode the escort planes along with the delegates in the other two planes. Renault and Lenix boarded different planes and taxied onto the runway as well when the onboard radio crackled to life.

“Delegation this is Control Tower, youre wearing drop tanks to make sure you have enough fuel to get there. You have clearance to take off when ready. Good flying guys.”

The six hour flight was dull and boring, Renault had no contact with anyone but the crew of the four P-60 aircraft until they were near McCarran airport.

“ McCarran Control Tower, Angels of War delegation requesting permission to land.”

“Angels of War delegation, this is McCarran Control tower. You are cleared to land.”

Renault and Lenix dismounted along with their companion Republican Guard and Infiltrator after they landed and told the pilots to stay with the planes and refuel them before being greeted by a securitron with the cartoon face of a soldier.

“Welcome to New Vegas Commander Lenix and Lieutenant-” Renault cut the machine off.
“Major Renault. I was promoted.”
The machine’s face blinked into an embarrassed expression for a moment before reverting back to its original face. “Major Renault. You must be here for the American Convention. It is being held inside the Ultra Luxe Gourmand. Follow me please.”

The two soldiers looked at each other before motioning for their companions to follow and accompanied the machine to the monorail. Lenix was fascinated by the monorail, but Renault just sat back and waited as he had ridden monorails many times before the Great War. It was a simple mode of transportation to him.

Upon arriving at the strip the delegation was asked to disarm much to the discomfort and annoyance of the Republican Guard. As the delegation walked towards the Ultra Luxe Renault turned and talked to his two companions.

“Guardsman I need you to find the representative of the New Texas Confederation and tell him I need to meet with him after the main conference. You, Infiltrator, I need you to go gather intel however you deem best.”

Both men nodded and peeled off. The guardsman went into the Ultra Luxe while the Infiltrator walked towards a group of people standing on the street. Renault and Lenix looked each other in the eye

“Ready old man?”

“Always.”

The two men talked up to the desk and told the receptionist who they were and collected their bag before accompanying a masked waiter to the room in which the conference was being held.

Renault dismissed the waiter before he could introduce them to the crowd of frighteningly powerful men and women sitting in front of them, preferring to simply sit in their booth and open the bottle of scotch they received in their bag. Renault took one swig straight from the bottle before making a sour face and handing the bottle to the older man and swallowing.

“This jet fuel is shit.”

“This isn't jet fuel, Marcus.”

“It tastes like it.”

“Shut it kid. Don't offend the host.” Renault grumbled under his breath a little before quieting down. They two men surveyed the room and recognized few people among the crowd. They instantly recognized the Legion delegates as they had fought against these very men five rears prior during the War of Hoover Dam. Renault lost a very good friend during the final battle, cut down by the Legion’s legate.

The only other people they recognized was the heads of the Van Graffs, Salvatore and Gloria Van Graff. They knew of the Van Graffs only as they were the reason they couldn't gain traction in the energy weapons market.

Renault saw a young, pale girl who seemed like some of the NCR’s de facto nobility had gotten lost and wound up here. Flanking her was a massive man wearing a black trench coat and gloves. His gaze rested on the girl for but a moment before it was drawn to her companion. The man had noticed his look and was staring him down with a look of pure malice.

Renault felt something in the back of his mind telling him to look away and that something wasn't right about these people, but he forced himself to meet his stare unflinchingly and unafraid. Renault’s composure held firm for the first ten seconds but then the feeling of unease started to grow. Renault was about to look away but luckily the girl nudged the man and started talking to him, causing him to break their stare.

Renault looked over the girl one more time before looking down at his table.

Something is very wrong with those people, I can feel it. I should stop looking at people.

Renault sat back in his booth and tuned out, preferring to dwell in his memories of the world before the war.

@Lewis251
It still just takes me to my home screen. I think someone will have to add me manually. My username there is still Malta307 and the little number underneath is #8338.
<Snipped quote by Malta307>

Hey Malta! Sheet looks really good. The only thing that may be subject to change is military strength and support, but it really isn't too much of an issue for now. We'd love to have you on the Discord though! Most of our discussion occurs over there. discordapp.com/channels/2308801984998…


I'm sorry but the link isn't working for me? It just takes me to my discord homescreen. Also what do I need to change on my numbers?
Hey here's my sheet fleshed out, if OP clears this one then it's my final sheet.
P.S. I can't figure out how to post images (posting from an iPad) so I can't get my flag up. The flag is a black gladius facing down with wings coming out of the side against a white background.

<Snipped quote by Malta307>

Go ahead and make new layers for your territory. Most shouldn't need more than one but there might be those who have a few.


It's at max layers I can't add any new ones.
What layer should I mark my claims on? Also I'll keep updating my sheet as time progresses so check it occasionally to make sure it's still in compliance with your guidelines.
<Snipped quote by Lewis251>

I would assume as long as there are open plots of land and an idea for a Nation we could potentially fill up North America including Canada. Of course there may be a point where if there's interest we may have to open up other continents for Nations. But that'll be up to Fisheye and if we have that large of a player base to warrant that.


That does make sense, and that's would certainly be interesting.
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