Prizrak

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Veteran Ranger Dina Medina
NCR Safehouse – Black Mountain
Sometime After Midnight, October 18th

Something had seemed off with Gloriana since she joined up with the duo at Wolfhorn Ranch and it hadn’t been getting better since they left. Dina was quiet and seldom spoke up about how she felt but this time didn’t feel right. She had a 10-ton weight in her stomach that kept nagging at her all day, it kept her on edge the entire trip, and it kept her from falling asleep after her sentry post.

Now she couldn’t sit still. It had been a few hours since they were ambushed but Dina’s heart hadn’t stopped hammering in her chest. Too many things reminded her of her time in the NCR, the Legion’s nighttime raids across the Colorado, the terror and the bloodshed as her friends lay died around her. Her adrenaline was compelling her to bolt into the mountains, but her feet kept her frozen inside the safehouse. Amidst the internal turmoil her eyes stayed transfixed on Gloriana, and the wounded NCR soldiers strewn about the safehouse.

“Why isn’t she saying anything!? Why hasn’t she said anything!? Why are we not doing anything!?” Dina’s internal monologue was becoming more and more frantic. It felt like she was screaming without saying a word. Her body was trembling and drenched with sweat, her fists clenched so tightly that her nails were causing fresh blood to drip from her palms. “Why am I not doing anything!?” It felt like Dina had crashed through a brick wall and landed back into reality. From where she was standing Dina yelled to Gloriana who was tending to the wounded.

“Gloriana! What are we doing here!?” Even though her voice was distorted through her helmets’ vocalizer it struck Gloriana like a lightning bolt.

Gloriana looked up from the soldier to acknowledge Dina, her face pale and expressionless as if she wasn’t entirely present in the room herself.

“We’re tending to the wounded?” Her voice almost sounded confused and despite Dina’s minimal interaction with her it sounded wrong. Like someone else was speaking through her.

“We should be out there! Hunting those bastards down!” Dina gestured towards the door and out into the wasteland. Her body was still trembling from the stress, but her voice was stern and carried enough authority that the other Rough Rider took notice and came in from outside. Gloriana remained where she was transfixed on Dina for a moment before returning to her patient almost as if nothing was ever said.

Dina snapped and ran up to Gloriana grabbing her by the shoulders of her jacket. Spinning her around to face her, Dina felt the other Rough Rider put his arm around her chest pulling her away, but her grip was locked onto Gloriana’s jacket. “They can’t fucking get away with this Gloriana! This is bullshit!” She was crying under her helmet hoping that her vocalizer would hide it. “What the fuck is wrong with you!? This isn’t what we’re about!”

Gloriana’s face looked shocked for a moment before she composed herself. Her eyes filled with fire as she looked at Dina but she didn’t fight her grip. Instead, she spoke softly as if talking to a child. “Go.”

Dina’s grip loosened at Gloriana’s response and without hesitation she broke from the other Rough Rider’s hold and ran out the door grabbing her rifle and pack on the way. As she switched on her night vision someone else followed her out the door. It was August the other Rough Rider that had tried to pull her away. Dina turned slightly to face him, but her body language showed that she was ready to bolt. “August don’t get in the way of this.” She snapped at him, but it almost sounded like she was begging him. Just as she was nearly pleading with Gloriana through anger and frustration a moment before.

“I’m not Dina. I’m heading to Sloan so we can radio for help. You’re right we need to act on this.” He paused for a second before continuing. “A man who is laden with the guilt of human blood. Will be a fugitive until death.”

“Another verse from the bible? What does that make us?” Dina softened her tone, but her posture remained wound tight.

“It makes us fugitives.”

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

The warm glow of a campfire lapped at the cold desert darkness encroaching on a ramshackle circle of tents. Shadows of those tending it were plainly visible in the stark contrast it painted across the landscape. Faint voices could be heard while a group of rough-cut men played cards and another few laughed and joked around the fire. An animal of some description was skewered over the flames its savory smoke carried up into the hills where the eyes of coyotes laid in wait with bated breath and gunpowder.


“They’re awfully brazen, aren’t they? You can probably see their fire from Laughlin.” Despite the vocalizer on his helmet the absurdity of the situation still carried through in his voice. Nestled into the rocks high up on the jagged slope above the campsite was a posse of Rough Rider mercenaries. This one adorned in their Desert Ranger armor with a high-powered rifle trained on the figures around the camp below. One of their compatriots lay next to him, his throat slit, eyes staring lifelessly at the sparkling sky above, his mouth agape as if to call out in warning while his blood soaks the sand around him.


“They were probably hoping that your friend was going to make a little more noise before he died.” Gloriana’s voice carried a bit of levity, but the seriousness of the situation was not lost in her tone. Among the bandits at the campsite were settlers from Cal-Nev-Ari, a village 12miles south of Searchlight. They were strewn about the camp, their clothes in tatters and most of them looked too exhausted to stand lying in disheveled heaps on the ground. These raiders had already slaughtered 4 of the youngest when they caught wind of their tail. Turning a week-long mission into one that’s lasted well over a month but too much blood had been shed for them to turn back.


“Gloriana, it’s Josey. We’ve dealt with the patrol. You guys have them all to yourselves now. Over” A man’s haggard voice crackles through the headset inside Gloriana’s helmet. Josey and two others were with the horses at the foot of the mountain. Their call on the radio was the signal they needed to strike.


“Good to go Josey. We’ll see you at the bottom. Out” Gloriana stowed her binoculars and came up to a knee checking the chamber in her service rifle for a round in the chamber. There were 5 of them up here including herself, 2 would stay on the slope and provide covering fire while Gloriana and 3 others moved down into the camp. She wanted them close before everyone started shooting, they couldn’t take any more chances. “Rangers lets wrap this up.”


Gloriana started moving down the mountainside towards the camp wholly enveloped in darkness while the other two Rough Riders chirped affirmatives over their headsets. She was within 10 feet of the ring of tents when the deafening roar of a double barrel shotgun broke the stillness of the night and sparked a chaotic exchange of gunfire. From a distance it must have looked like the mountainside was spitting fire into the night offended by their presence. They still had the drop on the raiders making them easy targets while they scrambled from their tents, some panicked into the night only to be shot down by the Rough Riders up above. Others blindly fired into the night in an attempt to repel their spectral attackers. Although just as quickly as it started the cacophony of chaos was silenced.


Gloriana was standing at the rim of the campfire with one other Rough Rider across from her. Without saying anything the two of them started scanning around the campsite. Out of the corner of her eye Gloriana caught a flash of white light shinning straight up into the sky. She shouldered her rifle and headed towards the light source, it strobed on and off at irregular intervals while she approached. At the edge of the tents, she found its source. One of the Rough Riders was laying on their back weakly signaling with their helmet mounted flashlight. When Gloriana approached them, she immediately recognized him as Dutch Berm they had been together since the NCR. He meekly turned his head to face her as she approached him. Croaking a labored “Hey Gia.” Gloriana turned on her flashlight and immediately dropped her rifle. His pants were soaked in blood and when she got down to render aid, she found out that his pelvis was riddled with buckshot. She hurriedly tried to pack his wounds with wads of bandages from her first aid kit, but she couldn’t stop the bleeding.


“It’s bad, isn’t it?” He wasn’t looking at her, instead he was staring up into the night sky. His voice was calm, almost peaceful. “I slipped coming down. Hell of a way to go. Gia?”


Her concentration was broken almost as if his question shocked the adrenaline out of her body. She gripped his hand tightly, both of their gloves soaked in blood. He was facing her now and even through their helmets she felt his eyes piercing through her. Gloriana’s heart was pounding into her throat while she stammered for her words, his grip was losing in hers. “They got you pretty good Dutch, but you’ll ride again.” He let out a guttural sigh and his grip slid loose from hers.


Another Rough Rider came up to the scene, this one a woman in their companies fatigues her face painted black with grease. She kneeled next to Dutch and removed his helmet. His eyes were closed, and he had a smirk across his face, but his pulse was gone. “Camp is clear boss, just the settlers left. I signaled for the rest of the team already.”


Gloriana hadn’t even noticed the red flare slowly falling above them painting the cliff face like bloodied teeth. She reached in to grab Dutch under his arms with the other Rough Rider following suit. They staggered to their feet his dead weight making it difficult to stand on the rocky terrain. Steadying her footing and her voice Gloriana started carrying him back into the camp. “Don’t worry Dutch. We won’t leave you behind.” As they broke past the tents some of the settlers, having been cut free, offered to help carry him but Gloriana couldn’t hear them.

With the camp secured the posse snaked down the side of the mountain. Dutch’s body draped over the back of Gloriana’s horse. A raging inferno had begun to engulf the camp, the mountain appeased with its sacrifice. Allowing them to begin their long trek back home.



Their ragged band approached the gates of Wolfhorn Ranch, its sheet metal and razor wire exterior welcoming only to them. Gloriana was at the head of the group Dutch’s body still draped behind her as the gates groaned open to meet them. As they rode through the sentry’s snapped to attention and saluted the solemn cargo that rode with them, knowing only that it was one of theirs. Stopping in the main courtyard everyone began to dismount their horses.


A man approached Gloriana his hair unkempt and ashen gray a contrast to his otherwise neat appearance. He looked up at her and saw the pain in her eyes no matter how deeply she tried to bury it. “You alright Gia?” He knew the answer, but it was all he could offer her, his own eyes being just as bad at hiding it. He put his hand on her leg as if attempting to draw her pain into him, but they were both too full of it to matter. His attention shifted towards Dutch “Welcome home brother.” A group of Rough Riders had gathered to help him carry Dutch off into one of the buildings.


Gloriana felt like she couldn’t move from her saddle. She played it off like she was attempting to fix something with her gear, but it felt like a hundred pounds of lead was in her gut. Daisy the woman that helped her when she first found Dutch came alongside her horse. “You need some help? We’re all a little run down, no shame in it.” Gloriana accepted her offer of help off her horse. Her feet felt like they landed on shifting earth, needing a minute to get her weight under her.


“I appreciate it, Daisy. I can manage it from here.” Daisy gave her a nod before heading off towards the bunkhouse. Gloriana turned to grab her gear from off her horse and a few of her men were already waiting to take it off to the stables. While she was offloading her gear, she noticed that Dutch’s blood had matted the hair on her horse’s backside. She looked down at herself and remembered that she was covered in his blood as well. Grabbing her gear, she headed to her quarters, a small wooden cabin situated away from the other buildings. Everyone was too preoccupied with the morning tasks to notice the state she was in as she headed inside. Collapsing in a heap as soon as the door closed behind her, too exhausted to cry or maybe she forgot. Either way all she could muster was to lie in a mess on the floor of her cabin for a few minutes until she began stripping her uniform off.

Her clothes ended up in a soiled heap inside her door while she headed outside to shower. She had her own shower attached to the outside of her cabin. So early in the day the water was still ice cold but after months without one it didn’t matter. She did her best to wash the grease out of her hair and scrub Dutch’s blood out from underneath her fingernails but all she wanted to do was sleep. After a few more minutes she called it quits and wrapped up in a towel headed back inside. Barely dried and her room still a mess, Gloriana collapsed onto her bed a naked heap.

Waking up to a knock at her door she wrapped herself in her towel and went to answer it. “Hey Gia. Sorry to catch you like this.” It was the same gray-haired man from before, Josh. If there was a second in command in the Rough Riders, it would be him.
“It’s okay Josh. What’s going on?” Gloriana kept one hand clasped onto her towel while she pressed her door closer to her side with the other. She didn’t want him to see the mess she left this morning, if it wasn’t still morning. It didn’t feel like she fell asleep but the sun was high in the sky so she must have.

“Doc finished getting Dutch cleaned up. We’ll do a service for him tonight…”

Before he could ask Gloriana interjected. “I’ll be there.”

“I know you will be and listen I didn’t want to jump you with this but we’re sending some guys out to Camp Golf in the morning.” He looked a little concerned that maybe it was too soon to be talking to Gloriana about work. She still had heavy bags under her eyes, and it looked like she was long overdue for some rest.

“What for?”

“Holmes radioed us. Needs some bodies but they’re being hush hush about the details. I’m sending some of the vets up there to sort it out.”

“I’ll go with them.”

“You sure?” He knew better than to ask. “We need to get you taken care of before you leave again Gia. Neither of us are in our twenties anymore. I’ll start with that mess you’re hiding behind the door.” Josh cracked a smile as Gloriana stepped aside revealing the disheveled state of her cabin. “I’ll get this stuff sorted, go grab some chow and try and get some sleep. I’ll come back for you tonight.” Josh scooped everything up off the ground and headed off towards the armory leaving Gloriana to tend to herself.

Later that night Gloriana was already at the door before Josh knocked. She hadn’t been able to sleep a whole lot given the circumstances.

“Everyone’s gathered up on the hill when you’re ready.” Josh was dressed in his Rough Rider’s fatigues wearing his navy-blue beret.
Gloriana had already gotten dressed in her fatigues, her beret clasped in her hands and followed Josh up to the hill at the periphery of Wolfhorn Ranch. At the top a pyre was built and most of the Rough Riders that were available stood waiting for Dutch’s arrival. She neatly placed her beret on her head as she approached and double checked her fatigues to make sure they weren’t messed up.

“You look good Gia. Do you want me to call formation?”

“No Josh, I got it.” She got the sense that she didn’t do a good job of bullshitting him this time, but he didn’t challenge her. Maybe he should have let him though because after she called them all to attention everything began to blur together. She remembers the procession bringing Dutch’s body adorned in his armor and draped in an old-world flag, the bugle playing all 24 notes of taps, and her picking up one of the three shell casings from the three-volley salute to place with him on the pyre. Although it all just feels like someone else’s memories.

When she went to bed that night she was tormented by the dreams of Teresa and a life long gone. In the morning she couldn’t leave fast enough. All she had to do was bury herself in work, then she would be too busy to remember. One more mission wouldn’t kill her but staying at the ranch certainly would. So, she and two other veterans rode out to Camp Golf on October 17th just as the sun was starting to come up over the horizon and before she knew it, they were at its all too familiar gates just before noon. Seemed the longer she stayed here the more she wanted to forget.

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Gloriana Lutz

Appearance: Gloriana is of average height with a well-muscled and athletic build, her face and body well-worn from years of military service. Her curly brown hair hangs just past her ears with strands of grey appearing here and there. Time and service have done a good job at marring the simple beauty Gloriana once had as a young woman with scars and wrinkles covering her well freckled face.

Affiliation: Founder and leader of The Rough Riders mercenary company

Previous Affiliations: NCR Military, NCR Veteran Rangers

Gear/Equipment: Gloriana is likely to be seen wearing her veteran ranger armor painted in the same six color desert pattern as the rest of her rangers. She usually wears her helmet but has a navy-blue beret with a gold lion pin to replace it when necessary. When in garrison or off duty she normally wears well-worn denim jeans, a button up flannel over a tank top and combat boots. Regardless of where she is her ranger sequoia revolver stays holstered at her hip accompanied by a knife somewhere on her person. When in combat or in an operation Gloriana will tend to bring whatever is necessary, a habit typical of veteran rangers.

Background: From a small town nestled in the mountains of southern California Gloriana is not public about her childhood, mentioning only that life in the NCR called her away from her family and home. Enlisting into the service as quickly as she could Gloriana cut her teeth as a rank-and-file grunt embracing the culture shock and the camaraderie that came with it. She was hooked and despite the desperate decision to flee into a life of service she wasn’t terrible at it. Gloriana is very soft-spoken, friendly, and compassionate traits not often accredited to infantrymen, but it helped greatly with the rapport between her and her unit. She was well liked by those she served with and proved her metal in combat numerous times.


Eventually approached by an opportunity to join the NCR Rangers Gloriana jumped on the chance. What had once been an essential escape had now become her passion. She loved the challenge and the rough and tumble life in the field, so the Rangers seemed like a perfect fit. Still young when she passed selection and earned her ranger badge Gloriana felt a little out of her element, but another woman took her under her wing, Ranger Teresa Lutz. They had gone through training together and over the duration of it instantly clicked. While Gloriana rarely left enemies behind her as she transferred from unit to unit, she always felt like she never really had friends. Teresa was the first person that made her feel like someone genuinely cared about her and the two of them became inseparable. Life in the military made it difficult for them to stay by each other’s side but they would stay in contact as frequently as possible and any chance for leave was spent together. After a few years the two of them were married, dedicating their lives not just to the rangers but to each other. At this point Gloriana had volunteered to become a veteran ranger and this is what would take her away from Teresa and slowly start to plant the seeds of dissent in her mind.


Spending most of her time at the spear tip of the NCR’s expansion started to open Gloriana’s eyes even wider to the negligence and failings of the NCR as an institution. Eventually she just didn’t love it like she used to, something she struggled with for a while but life as a veteran ranger kept her engaged and satisfied. She had spent most of her time hunting down Caesar’s Legion targets across the Colorado River leading up to the First Battle of Hoover Dam. During the battle she had gotten caught up in repelling the attack on Camp Golf while her wife Teresa was stuck at the front-lines at Hoover Dam. When news got back to her that Teresa had died after getting trapped in Boulder City Gloriana’s morale was crushed. After that day she never truly felt like the same person and everything she did with the rangers just didn’t feel right.


She had spent the next few years spinning her wheels hanging on for Teresa’s sake and for the sake of the rangers she served with, but she could never shake the loss. Once assigned to Baja for what seemed like a useless ghost hunt Gloriana started drawing up the plans for her departure. Most of the rangers she served with in her platoon shared her sentiment. So, once they were recalled back to Nevada in preparation for the Second Battle of Hoover Dam just to have the rug pulled out from under them, they walked away forming the Rough Riders. A chance to set things right and make up for where they failed. A chance for Gloriana to bury her ghosts. She visits the Boulder City memorial as often as she can muster the strength, but she still can’t make it past that cold stone with Teresa’s name etched into it.

The Rough Riders

Description: The Rough Riders are a small tight knit mercenary company operating in the Mojave after the NCR’s withdrawal from the area. Founded from a company of NCR Veteran Rangers under the command of Veteran Ranger Gloriana Lutz. Fed up with the bureaucracy and incompetence that all but infested the NCR, no love was lost when they walked away from it. Many of their initial contracts came from caravan companies that paid them to scout out potential routes or escort their caravans through especially rough terrain.




Territory: Headquartered at Wolfhorn Ranch the Rough Riders have reinforced and expanded on the ramshackle homestead turning it into a self-sufficient headquarters more than suitable for supporting their numbers with excess crops used to barter or build relations with local communities. Their other notable garrison is at the mountain top observation post Outpost Guardian. Under contract from the 3rd Infantry Battalion, they dug in and fortified the position. Using it primarily as a jumping off point for reconnaissance missions into the surrounding areas.



Sphere of Influence: The Rough Riders maintain garrisons at their headquarters in Wolfhorn Ranch and at Outpost Guardian. These areas are patrolled heavily but it’s not uncommon for them to be spotted elsewhere in the Mojave, either in service to their 3rd Infantry Battalion contracts or on independent business. They are generally well respected by the settlements in the Mojave and are often called on to mediate small town disputes and help quell local disturbances. A service they usually provide with no expectation of payment.



Force Composition: The Rough Riders consist of about 100 personnel. 40 of them are NCR Veteran Rangers, mostly members of the founding company but there are a few new faces. Making up the difference are NCR patrol rangers and regular soldiers. All of them are considered combatants and able to take on missions when necessary.


A vital aspect of Rough Rider operations stems from their extensive application of horses and pack animals. Used to rapidly deploy small units over long distances, turn regular infantry into shock units, or just make long distance scouting missions more efficient. All members of the Rough Riders are trained rigorously in horsemanship and their horses have become the lifeblood of their operations allowing them to operate well outside of the confines of the Mojave. In some areas of Wolfhorn Ranch it’s easy to forget that you’re inside of a military compound with barns and corrals giving it the appearance of a traditional horse ranch. Although following the famine, care of the horses has become increasingly difficult to maintain and a sizeable amount was lost to starvation. With their numbers now close to 50 they are a resource looked after even more closely than before.

Currently structured into 3 platoons, rotations between each one is common in order to ensure that each soldier is given a chance to unwind and that the home front is well looked after. These 3 companies are as follows.

HQ Platoon: It may not always be the same people but there will always be a sizeable force in the home guard. The primary duty of this company is to protect Wolfhorn Ranch. Although due to their self-sufficient nature personnel assigned to this company will also be responsible for tending to the farms and animals, maintenance of equipment and facilities, and more general day-to-day operations.

OP Guardian: Due to their current contract with the 3rd Infantry Battalion a garrison at Outpost Guardian has been stood up. Personnel assigned here will spend most of their time manning the outpost or using it as a base-camp for operations into the surrounding areas.

Away: Generally used to refer to personnel not in garrison and operating out in the wasteland. Duration spent in this status is solely dependent on how long an operation lasts and some personnel can be classified as “away” for months until they return to garrison.




Equipment: Stemming from their time in the NCR Veteran Rangers, the founding members of the Rough Riders have always kept a diverse arsenal allowing others to choose whatever gear suits them and their mission set best. An example of some of the equipment at their disposal is the .308 M1 Garand battle rifle, 5.56 light machine gun, .45-70 govt brush gun, .308 sniper rifle, .50 anti-material rifle, 5.56 service rifle, 40mm grenade launcher, and .45-70 revolvers. Although it’s not uncommon to see other weapons checked in and out of the armory.

Their uniform is similar in design to standard NCR fatigues except normally worn with a navy-blue blouse, and khaki or 6-color desert camo trousers. Issued combat armor and helmets to wear over their fatigues most members choose to wear as little as possible and replace their helmets with Stetson cavalry hats worn with gold cords and yellow handkerchiefs tied around their throat. A sign of bravado amongst the Rough Riders but also representative of their highly mobile approach to combat. Most soldiers inevitably end up only wearing a helmet and chest guard to avoid impeding their mobility.


A small reserve of NCR Veteran Ranger armor is maintained and used only by the most elite of the Rough Riders. Most of it is a pre-war USMC variant with the armor painted in 6-color desert camo (chocolate chip) and the brown trench coat replaced with a navy blue one at the operator’s discretion. If operating with NCR personnel where confusion could occur, they will either wear a navy-blue trench coat and/or distinguish themselves with yellow markings, normally a handkerchief tied around their neck or arm.




History: Formed shortly after the NCR’s withdrawal from the Mojave the founding members of the Rough Riders all came from Veteran Ranger Gloriana Lutz’s company. They had grown disillusioned with the meandering bureaucracy of the NCR and chose to strike out on their own. Initially working with caravan companies to help get established. Their skills in the wilderness made them excellent scouts and many companies like Crimson Caravan and the Gun Runners used them to survey new supply routes or escort caravans through treacherous territory.


Amid the chaos that consumed the Mojave and left reeling from the famine themselves the Rough Riders were forced to form a bond with local communities or risk dying out themselves. So, for little to nothing in return the Rough Riders would help settlements, however they could for little to nothing in return. This included running off raiders, mediating disputes, guiding hunting parties, guarding general stores, and training settlers to better protect themselves. All of this in the hope that when they had something to give it would come back to the Rough Riders. Normally it was just small quantities of food that the people would pool together for them, but it helped keep them in business.

Contract work at this time was at an astronomical high. Caravan companies desperately needed help moving their products as more and more caravans carrying essential supplies were raided before ever reaching their destinations. Using their previous connections and reputation, the Rough Riders were able to step in to bolster security and help some caravans avoid raiders by navigating more treacherous trails. While still a modest boon to the overall dismal situation in the Mojave, it still made an impact for those that needed it.


All of these were moves that would help set them apart from the quickly deteriorating organization they used to belong to. In most settlements the Rough Riders were spoken of positively and community outreach during such a troubling time seemed to foster support for the mercenaries amongst the locals. Eventually due to their former interactions with one another and increasing need for more resources Gloriana and the Rough Riders would end up taking contracts for the NCR by proxy of the 3rd Infantry Battalion. Except this time, they weren’t beholden to the system that so often failed the ones it was supposed to protect.

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

<Snipped quote by Prizrak>

Feel free to join us! Always accepting new members :)

@tundrafrog1124

Thank you! I'd be honored to dust the writing muscles off with the old crew. Just need to catch up with where the RP is at and brainstorm something that I can contribute.

D - Day : Lost World

What an interesting catalyst for an apocalypse, I'm definitely interested! Will begin working on my character sheet shortly.

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Just wanted to pop in and say how awesome it is that you guys are still keeping the Fallout RP alive! I certainly miss it!

Delta Green: The PLUTO Connection, Occult Action and Intrigue

I'm inexperienced with the table top but have always been interested in the setting. Are you still looking for more applicants? Right now I'm toying with the idea of a 160th SOAR pilot.

cancelled

Would be interested in filling the automatic rifleman position. I'll whip a sheet soon.

Accentuate The Positive: A Fallout Roleplay

Erin

Erin

"Lately I'm not feeling like myself. When I look into the glass, I see someone else. I hardly recognize this face I wear. When I stare into her eyes, I see no one there. Lately I'm not feeling like myself..."

Life before the foundation of the Free State is a haze to Erin, almost as if someone else was telling the story. She remembers the wavetops though, the things that keep men and women going through their lives.


Born in Modoc, her father was killed in a raid when she was young. After that she was embolden with a desire for justice for his murder. Joining up with the NCR only as a way to see that the men that killed her further met the same fate, Erin had her eyes on becoming a Ranger. For a few years she was stuck in the rank and file not gaining the attention of the people she needed to in order to become a Ranger, although she stuck to her course and made it there eventually. It was in the days that followed her selection into the Rangers that Erin couldn’t help but feel like fate was playing a game with her. Freshly minted and no more than a week into her new post, orders were sent out for Erin and the rest of her group to head out in pursuit of the same gang that killed Erin’s father. They spent years tracking them all throughout the independent territories hundreds of miles from the nearest NCR outpost. It was in these times that Erin feels that she truly became a woman, spending months on end chasing leads in the bush. When finally confronted, the gang caught the Rangers in the now infamous shootout at Spanish Fork, Utah. Said shootout ended in both sides taking tremendous losses leading to the gang slipping back out into the wilderness while the Rangers retreated to care for their wounded. With over half the Rangers killed and the rest wounded to some extent, including Erin the cadre was forced to retreat back into safer territory. A decision that would never really sit right with Erin.


Upon arriving back to the NCR the cadre of Rangers were all rewarded with the black armor and the status of Veteran Rangers despite their failure to eradicate the gang they were sent after. Given time to recover, and little more for anything else they were soon retasked to Hoover Dam to help fortify it against a Legion attack. Gangs like the one that killed Erin’s father and friends seemed to no longer be a priority for the NCR anymore, something that Erin started to take personally. During the battle of the Hoover Dam the cadre of Rangers once again found themselves in the jaws of death. It was beginning to seem like fortune may not actually favor them for the battle quickly became their graves, except for Erin. Days later she came to on the edge of death, grievously wounded, and abandoned by the withdrawing NCR forces. Gathered up by sympathetic locals Erin had finally lost faith in the institution she belonged to, and upon recovering decided to stay with the locals that saved her instead of returning back to the NCR. It was from these people that she learned of a chance to escape everything out east, to begin again.

Accentuate The Positive: A Fallout Roleplay

Here's what I got. Consider the die cast.

Erin

Erin

“What I can’t stop wondering is if I really even left that place, or if I’m just left to roam until someone tells me that I’m dead.”

Life before the foundation of the Free State is a haze to Erin, almost as if someone else was telling the story. She remembers the wavetops though, the things that keep men and women going through their lives.


Born in Modoc, her father was killed in a raid when she was young. After that she was embolden with a desire for justice for his murder. Joining up with the NCR only as a way to see that the men that killed her further met the same fate, Erin had her eyes on becoming a Ranger. For a few years she was stuck in the rank and file not gaining the attention of the people she needed to in order to become a Ranger, although she stuck to her course and made it there eventually. It was in the days that followed her selection into the Rangers that Erin couldn’t help but feel like fate was playing a game with her. Freshly minted and no more than a week into her new post, orders were sent out for Erin and the rest of her group to head out in pursuit of the same gang that killed Erin’s father. They spent years tracking them all throughout the independent territories hundreds of miles from the nearest NCR outpost. It was in these times that Erin feels that she truly became a woman, spending months on end chasing leads in the bush. When finally confronted, the gang caught the Rangers in the now infamous shootout at Spanish Fork, Utah. Said shootout ended in both sides taking tremendous losses leading to the gang slipping back out into the wilderness while the Rangers retreated to care for their wounded. With over half the Rangers killed and the rest wounded to some extent, including Erin the cadre was forced to retreat back into safer territory. A decision that would never really sit right with Erin.


Upon arriving back to the NCR the cadre of Rangers were all rewarded with the black armor and the status of Veteran Rangers despite their failure to eradicate the gang they were sent after. Given time to recover, and little more for anything else they were soon retasked to Hoover Dam to help fortify it against a Legion attack. Gangs like the one that killed Erin’s father and friends seemed to no longer be a priority for the NCR anymore, something that Erin started to take personally. During the battle of the Hoover Dam the cadre of Rangers once again found themselves in the jaws of death. It was beginning to seem like fortune may not actually favor them for the battle quickly became their graves, except for Erin. Days later she came to on the edge of death, grievously wounded, and abandoned by the withdrawing NCR forces. Gathered up by sympathetic locals Erin had finally lost faith in the institution she belonged to, and upon recovering decided to stay with the locals that saved her instead of returning back to the NCR. It was from these people that she learned of a chance to escape everything out east, to begin again.