Wampower

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Heavily under construction Salem sheet

Name: Amelia Schlau

Age: 27

Race: Mixed English caucasian and African. A result of post war breakdown of social barriers.

Sex: Female.

Appearance:

Head: Pretty features that are a blend of her heritage. Straight black hair in a single long braid down to just past her shoulders. She has an English accent from the London area, but can emulate an American accent. Fluent in German.

Physical Appearance: She is five feet and ten inches tall. She has light brown skin from her heritage, helping her resist the sun. She has an attractive and fit hourglass figure.

Skills:

Personality:

Weapons & armor/clothing: Clothing: This coat i.imgur.com/DJpNbPv.jpg , with a brass pin of this i.imgur.com/GAeID3P.jpg over the right breast. The coat is functional and protective against cold. She wears this hat i.imgur.com/TQQ1EGJ.jpg , except it has a much larger white feather on it. Under her coat she wears a black shirt, tough black trousers, and black leather boots.

Weapon: silenced H&K MP10 10mm SMG: fallout.wikia.com/wiki/10mm_SMG_(Fall…

Armor: Usually wears no armor, but if she’s expecting a battle she has a suit of Hanseatic black leather armor stored away.

Occupation: Trader of the Neu Hanse, but also their covert operative. Speaks for the other Hanse men, who speak little English.

Faction: Die Neue Hanseatisch Liga(The New Hanseatic League), or Die Neu Hanse.

Backstory:

War Never Changes

Governor of New Houston and President of the Confederation Harris

Bartholomew presented the agreement on the table, and then proceeded to read the document. The initiative was appealing to say the least. The mutual economic, militaristic, and political benefits were undeniable, and he could see no way Texas would lose any significant sovereignty beyond the defensive military alliance. That might be the most contentious part of the treaty in Congress, and the isolationists would throw a fit at the whole thing. But he could certainly pull some strings, contact contacts, and call up some favors to get it passed. The only questionable part he could see was the location of the joint American Co-Prosperity Sphere Council. Harris fetched the map of the continental United States from his brief case, spread it on the table in front of him, put on his reading glasses, and examined the area. It was at the edge of Key controlled space, on the north end of an island chain off the coast of North Carolina: a worrying distance from the center of Texan and Key influence.

He cleared his throat several times before speaking, as he was worried his voice was going too ghoulish. “This agreement is fantastic, Bartholomew,” he said in a tone dripping with goodwill “I should be able to get this through the Confederation Congress, though I have one concern myself.” He pointed at the proposed location “The location of the joint American Co-Prosperity Sphere Council. It is a long distance from the primary lands of the nations at this table. I understand the desire to keep the Council neutral, but this distance from our collected power could leave the Council’s vulnerable. I propose we establish either a permanent meeting place in one of our nation’s primary borders, or we make the meeting place change every few years. The event of a change could become quite the event, drawing tourists, celebration, and giving nations a chance to show their newest innovations.”

Governor Angela Riviera

Angela’s expectations were more than met by the proposed American Co-Prosperity Sphere. She nodded along to Bart’s reading, and quickly secured a copy for herself to make sure she understood the details. Joint military exercises were a good idea, as the planning behind their cooperation in the Hoover War had been done a bit hasty. Promoting freedom sounded good too… she felt an odd heavy sensation in her, as she realized it would be partially up to her to implement all this. Angela Riviera, a girl from a nowhere farm, deciding world events. Damn.

Harris had something to say about the location of the Council, snapping her out of her sudden rush of nervousness. Looking on the spot, it did seem an odd place for something so important. She waited for Bart’s response.

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

James Gregor Castner- Far Harbor

It seemed that they had an agreement. The other James also seemed to not agree with the Enclave’s true goal. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all...

“I would be lying if I said they didn’t somewhat remind me of the enclave.” James replied as he shook the other James hand “but truthfully I have no-else to go but even if I did... The atom cultist fruitcakes. Not sure if you saw what happened at the wall but You must have seen how the regular Atoms whackos have spread up and down the coast, if they get a hold of whatever mind controlling machine or bloody cult powers the ones of the island have then we are all fucked.”

James nodded, even though he was somewhat confused. What mind bending powers? “Brotherhood scouting reports indicated that the Children of Atom spread to various corners of the Commonwealth, and that some were highly dangerous. If what you say about the Children getting ahold of some dangerous power here is true, then not just Far Harbor is at risk here. Though what exactly happened at the wall?”

Then Longfellow slammed the door on his way out of the Last Plank. The other James spoke up “hey what’s going on in there? is this do with what you found on the dock?"

He simply nodded and looked at Longfellow, waiting for an explanation.

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

James Gregor Castner-Far Harbor

“Oh great.”, the possible Enclaver said. The man had not been intimidated by James’s remark, which made sense, but he didn't seem to take the situation seriously.

Then he asked about where the man got his hat. “Your Mother.” the man sarcastically replied before adopting a more serious tone “we both know the answer... The enclave and yes before you ask I was a member, Captain James William the 3rd of the Enclave supply and personnel core.”

So it was true. This other James was really an Enclave officer. James realized with some surprise that he was more shocked than angry.

The other James then opened up his coat revealing his battle damaged uniform. “I didn’t exactly agree with what the robot ordered but they where my family and it would have been fucking stupid to leave, but it doesn’t matter anymore the Enclave is gone.”

He gripped his gun harder, but was suddenly unsure what his move would be.

“Only reason I have this on is because the Brotherhood showed up in Boston and they shoot spies... Anyway you know the truth now so say whatever you were gonna say about the enclave.... I don’t really care anymore.”

“I’ve got more important things to do, like saving this town from atom fruitcakes.”

It was a lot to process, but even as the other James revealed his past he felt his anger fading. There were some parallels weren’t there? He didn’t agree with what Maxson ordered and what happened to Colleen, but it would have been stupid to leave his only family, the family that was really gone. All he had left was helping a town he never knew. It also wouldn’t be wise to pick a fight with this man in the middle of such a xenophobic town. Even though the other James had cooperated with attempted genocide, maybe they should try to work together if the Enclaver really was turning over some kind of new leaf and helping people for a change. He wouldn’t really trust James, but circumstances were circumstances.

He let off the grip of Bear and sighed deeply “Well you’re probably wondering why I stopped you about your stupid hat. My name is James Gregor Castner, Paladin of the Brotherhood of Steel. Possibly former based on today’s events. I was a part of a squad you might remember from the war: Lyon’s Pride.”, he started confidently, with a note of aged weariness as he mentioned his old squad. “We certainly killed a lot of your kind in the war, and you killed plenty of ours. And you planned to kill a lot more than that”, he said that last part with some intensity. “But that was a decade ago. If you’re truly willing to put it behind you, if you truly want to help this town, then we should try not to kill each other and work together. I’ve got an eye on you though. I’ll kill you myself if you do something wrong. Deal?” He held out his hand, offering a handshake of understanding. "Just one question. Why would ex Enclaver care about helping a town like this?".

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

James Gregor Castner- Mariner's Shack

"Bird? Flying machines? Just what the hell kind of group is this?" Longfellow replied with a skeptical eye, "You know what? Nevermind. Not sure I want to know more. You'll have to talk with the rest of the townsfolk if you want help with that equipment though. Frankly, I don't think you're going to get many takers. Nobody is too keen on going out into the Fog right now. Especially after what happened this morning..."

James sighed inwardly. He supposed it might be better for him right now if the people understood little of the Brotherhood, but soon they were going to be getting closer and close to this town and the people needed to be ready.

Longfellow gave a chuckle and sighed, shaking his now empty flask before tucking it away, "Son we're going to need alot more whiskey for that kind of story. But the short of it is this: The Fog has been on the island as long as anyone can remember. Didn't used to be as bad though, but lately its gotten much, much worse. You saw those odd glowing contraptions outside of town right? Well those are called condensers. Fella by the name of DiMA gave them to us awhile back to help keep back the Fog. Well now DiMA and his whole group are long gone and the town's hanging by a thread without their help. And now all of a sudden we got this crazy cult to contend with that nobody has ever seen before and to top it all off the critters on this island are starting to grow three or four times their regular sizes. Getting bigger and bigger every day it seems. Folks are scared...real scared. Scared of the cultists and scared of the island. And I don't say I blame them. "

It had to be the worst threat to any settlement he’d heard. That scouting mission wouldn’t have been enough at all to help with this town’s problems, and they probably would have pulled out anyways. He had to do what he could to help out.

"You ask what's the story of Far Harbor friend?" Longfellow chuckled again, "Its one that doesn't have a happy ending. That's what."

Before he could respond, a man came up and urged Longfellow to go down to the docks at the doctor’s request.
"Alright, alright I'm goin'," Longfellow said, standing up, "Listen stranger, I still don't know if I understand this Brotherhood you're with, but if you're not looking to harm us, then I've got no beef with you. If you want to stay in Far Harbor awhile, tell Mitch over in the Last Plank to set you up with a room and a bed for a few days. Tell him Longfellow's good for it. He'll know what you mean. He owes me a few favors...think of it as my way of recompensing for the ill welcome."

“Thanks Longfellow. I’ll see what I can do to help out.”, and then Longfellow was off.

James wasn’t sure what to do now. There was some kind of commotion on the docks, but he doubted he’d be trusted enough by the civilians yet to get a real look at what was happening. Then the Enclave hat from before slipped back into his mind, a wave of anger passed over him. The Enclave were no better than the pre-war terrorists he’d read about. Nobody was safe from being slaughtered by them in the name of their twisted version of America. And they were so sure of themselves too, thinking their fancy power armor would always save them. He never saw the concept of defeat in the eyes of a single one of their soldiers until just before his super sledge went home.

He looked around. Most of Far Harbor was concentrated by the disturbance at the docks. The possible Enclaver had moved off, but hadn’t gone far. James walked to him at an average pace, making no attempts at concealment. He stopped in front of the man, hand casually on his holster where Bear, his .44 hunting revolver, was resting.

“You know”, he started in a casual sarcastic tone “if the Brotherhood of Steel is a gang of raiders LARPing as medieval knights, then the Enclave was a gang of super mutants insane enough to think they were Americans.” He whistled and gestured towards the clean grey hat. “Where’d you get the hat?”, his fake casual tone slipping into something more threatening.

War Never Changes

“Now THAT’S Vault Secure!”-Vault 99 recruiting billboard on the lower stretch of I-35

WIP Flag

Territory

The area around San Antonio to Corpus Christi on the sea. Their forces and spies operate in a constantly shifting sphere of influence on the frontier.

History

To protect its oil and business interests, the United States invaded Mexico in the year 2051. The Mexican army’s resistance was heroic, but futile. In the following years, Mexico was made into a hellish patchwork of areas under martial law, areas under the private ownership of corporations, and areas under American governors. The result was a vast and confused pillaging of Mexico’s wealth and oil. A lack of oversight meant unbridled greed, violence, and corruption festered across the land. Any resistance to Mexico’s vassalage was put down hard.

A group of generals, fat on wealth pulled from Mexico, decided to use their loot to get their own Vault to wait out the apocalypse. Vault Tec immediately saw an opportunity for an experiment. Their ambassadors from Vault Tec convinced the generals of a proposition: they’ll get a cushy hideaway to save themselves if they agree to let their vault be used for a unique military based experiment. The generals of course accepted, unaware of the force they would be releasing upon a future America, and then construction started in Fort Sam Houston, San Antonio: A massive vault filled with several hundred military men who fought in Mexico, their families, and the finest military equipment of United States Army. The experiment was to see if supposedly freedom loving Americans could be converted to accept a more militarist and ordered society, and then set them loose on the world with vague guiding ideals of restoring the “law and order”, “rightful living room for true Americans”, and the “traditions of America”.

And set loose they were. In 2260, they took swiftly conquered San Antonio. The fiercest battle was when the last of the city watch tried to hold out in the Alamo, but the more advanced weapons soon finished them off. They unlocked more equipment they had stored at Lackland Air Force Base and Camp Bullis, including power armor, fighter planes, and weapon caches. Vault 99 blitzed to New Austin, where the combined forces of Texas and the Angels of War(Some of their pre war soldiers were soldiers under disillusioned with Stein's brutal methods) drove them back to San Marcos: the static front and uneasy border between the Confederation and the Vault. They spent the next years building vast fortifications around San Antonio, and establishing iron fisted rule over some surrounding territory. When the Hoover War came they were surprised, as their intelligence operatives had not reached that far west. Then the Confederation launched a preemptive strike against the newly christened SA Capital District. The city’s new walls were put to the test, but the Texans were beat back. The last years have been spent ramping up military production, and expanding their influence across parts of the Frontier and their old domain of Mexico. They’re prepared to make their mark, no matter how strained they are to establish themselves as more than an army.

Population

75,000.

20,000 are descendants of the Vault 99’s pre war soldiers. Breeding programs ensured that their resettlement of America wouldn’t fizzle out as a result of inter-breeding and low population. They are the upper class of every major community under their rule, and afforded the best of pre war education and wealth.

55,000 are the remaining locals of the area Vault 99 rules. Many are oppressed in an almost feudal style, being forced to work hard on farms and factories for only a few Vault dollars and “protection”. Other parts of the population did see their conditions improve with the arrival of Vault 99 forces, but face strict laws and surveillance. The people can improve their lives by serving in the military, but are treated like cannon fodder. Any and all mutants and ghouls have long since been exterminated in work camps.

WIP Government/Domestic Politics

A council of generals and advisors has absolute authority. Everyone follows stringent rules, and is expected to give their best for the good of the Vault.

WIP Notable People

General Douglas Stein- A pre-war general carefully preserved in a cryo pod similar to those used in Vault 111. While the other generals assigned to Mexico were some of the United States’s weakest, General Douglas Stein was one of the best and was expected to keep the whole occupation together. His strategy is ruthless and brutal, believing in using any means necessary to restore the United States of America as he knew it. He has been repeatedly pulled in and out of cryosleep to keep him available whenever Vault 99 needs him, but lately he has been disillusioned with this. He believes the cryo sleep also serves to keep the younger leaders in power as long as possible. He wants to exercise his vision, seeing himself as the rightful leader. He is tall and bearded, with chocolate brown hair.

WIP Military

25,000 soldiers clad in blue digital camoflauge

11,000 are descendants of Vault 99 families, and are equipped with high quality combat armor, APCs, advanced weapons, and power armor. Only these soldiers are trusted to fly the Vault’s fleet of vertibirds and pre-war fighter planes, including three squads of Stingray Deluxes.

The last 14,000 are conscripts, canon fodder, and labor. They are tempted to the army with upward mobility dangled in front of them.

Economy

The economy is organized by overseers to best benefit the Vault. Some free sectors are allowed, but typically when they are inconsequential like trade in cheap junk and living necessities.

Culture and Technology (include views towards slavery and mutants)

Militaristic culture, favoring strength, evolution, and supremacy over the weak. They value upward mobility IF you are a “true American”. They attempt to simulate parts of American culture as well, with baseball being played often amongst Vault Americans.

They have advanced military technology that they tinkered with during their long years underground, including what they call the Pip Boy 4000. They use some basic tech to improve the conditions of wastelanders to sell the image they improve the lives of their subjects. Meanwhile, the elite live in nearly pre-war conditions with replicants of pre-war consumer technology.

Ghouls and mutants are to be exterminated or sent to labor camps. They are not humans or Americans to the Vault. Wastelanders are not as dehumanized as they are by the Enclave, but are still considered second class citizens, and not “true Americans”.

Religion

Christianity is utilized to reinforce the values of the Vault, and “Vault 99 Prime Bibles” are distributed amongst the population.

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

James Gregor Castner- Mariner's Shack

"Brotherhood of what-now?" Longfellow chuckled. His laughs gradually morphed into a fit of coughing after which he regained himself and stared back up at the him,

Longfellow had obviously not heard of the Brotherhood, and by extension most of Far Harbor probably hadn’t, considering that Longfellow seemed like the de facto leader of Far Harbor. That was probably for the best.

"No stranger I ain't heard of a Brotherhood of Steel, or the Brotherhood of Iron or Wood. Or any other construction material for that matter. Sounds like mainlainder bullshit if you ask me," Longfellow took another swig from his flask. Despite his joke, he could tell that the man was serious however. And so he sighed, tucked his flask away, and started back at James with a curious look,

"Alright stranger I'll bite. Just what is 'The Brotherhood of Steel'?"

Before he could explain someone else had butted in. “A gang of Raiders LARPing as medieval knights.” the man chuckled.

James turned around to try to correct the man, only to see that pristine Enclave officers hat. He stopped dead, staring at the man for three tense seconds before turning back around. An Enclave Officer? Here? But he also processed the jacket the stranger wore. Maybe he was simply a wastelander who bought the hat. The Brotherhood had problems with dangerous Enclave contraband in the hands of wastelanders for years after the war. A hat making it’s way this far north wasn’t unlikely. Still… he’d have to ask the stranger later.

He downed the rest of his whiskey shot. “Anyways.”, he started again after gathering his thoughts, summing up the best explanation he could for someone who’d lived in an isolated settlement their whole life. “the Brotherhood of Steel is a powerful military group south of here. I am, or was, a part of it. Armories full of flying vehicles, power armor, laser weapons. They try to keep dangerous technology out of people’s hands. They used to use their power to help people, but the current leader has made them more aggressive and self centered. I disagreed, wanted to follow the old way of helping the Wasteland, and was exiled here.”, he paused to decide what exactly he would say about the crashed vertibird. “Or at least, I was supposed to be exiled. Something hit our bird, and it crashed somewhere on the island. The Brotherhood might sned more people to check it out, but the gear in that vehicle could help defend your settlement against this cult. It should take them some time to figure out what happened anyways. I only need some helping fixing up something to track it’s location, and a group willing to help me get the gear.”, he sat back in the chair. “Now your turn. What’s the story of Far Harbor, and the cult threatening you?”

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

James Gregor Castner- Mariner's Shack

"Nothing I can't handle,". And with that, the doctor went to work. For a few hours his cuts were dressed, and he received a splint. The medical equipment seemed well worn, but still very effective.

"There, I think that'll do it," Teddy said with a sigh as he packed up his supplies and snapped his bag shut, "No charge this time, on account of the not-so-warm welcome you received coming into town. Let me know if you need anything else, my little clinic is in the back of the Bait Shop, can't miss it."
“Thank you, I appreciate your hospitality. I’ll stop by if I need anything”, he replied earnestly.

The doctor left the shack and Longfellow entered. He sat down, pulled out a flask, and poured two shots. Whiskey by the smell of it. He gladly accepted one of the shots.

"So," Longfellow said, setting his gun aside, but still within easy reach, "Doc said you don't have any signs of long-term radiation exposure or of having been in the Fog for very long. Which I guess pretty well clears you of being a cultist. That still don't explain much about what you were doing out there though. Mind filling in the blanks?"

He sighed and sipped half the whiskey. He knew he was supposed to keep his true origin a secret, but he wanted to be honest. Was he really a part of the Brotherhood anymore though? Did he owe them anything? Well, he owed them everything. Even if the last few years had been hard. Even after what they did to Colleen… Stop. Can’t think about her now. The wreckage of the vertibird could help Far Harbor, he could retrieve his heavy duty gear, and there was the chance the Brotherhood might send another squad. The town needed to be ready.

After a pause, James replied “Have you ever heard of the Brotherhood of Steel?”

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

James Gregor Castner-Far Harbor

Longfellow nodded thoughtfully, "Aye I suppose that could be arranged. Stay here and I'll go and fetch the Doc." He then pointed at the Harborman standing guard, "You remember what I said Tommy right?" The Harborman simply nodded and cradled the ancient shotgun he had in his arm. The shotgun looked well used and well loved. James could relate to that idea and he patted the place where Bear would be in his holster. You rely on your weapons to live in this world long enough, and eventually they become more than tools.

“Most appreciated”, he simply said as Longfellow turn to to leave.

Longfellow left and returned with a dirty looking doctor. His coat had two types of brown stains: those from mud, and those from blood. Certainly not as clean as the doctors at the citadel, but hopefully just as skilled.

The doctor extended his hand for a shake, which James quickly shook.

"Name's Teddy," He said, "Teddy Wright. I'm the Doctor around here for Far Harbor. Only one in town matter-of-fact. I hear you came in from the fog but not much more than that. So what are we looking at here?"
Before he could respond, Longfellow whispered something in Teddy’s ear. James’s eyes narrowed. This whole suspected of being a cultist thing was going to get old.

Ah...I see," Teddy replied with a perturbed expression, "I'll see what I can do."

The doctor knelt down and started rummaging through his medical bag. "Have any immediate injuries I need to look at?" Teddy began, taking out a stethoscope and a few bandages.

“Yeah my right legs injured. Not broken, but probably sprained or badly bruised. Can also feel some cuts and bruises on my chest, arms, and back. Fell off my boat when it hit some rocks up the shore, and fell on the same rocks.”

He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up the deception forever, but he wasn’t sure if these people were hostile or not. And wastelander attitudes towards the Brotherhood were… diverse to say the least. Then again, he wasn’t quite sure he was a part of the Brotherhood anymore. That thought brought a rush of sadness and memories triumphant and heartbreaking, but maybe there was a silver lining? A chance to begin again? If so, it wasn’t off to a great start.

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

James Gregor Castner- Far Harbor

James stripped off his clothes in front of Far Harbor’s gate. At first he attempted to be neat and carefully avoided placing his clothes in the muck and scum around and on the road. But the guards had no time for this and fired a harpoon straight through his pants, pinning them into the ground and encouraging him to care less about cleanliness.

Soon enough he was down to nothing. The guards couldn’t hold back their laughter, snorting and guffawing as they gestured him through the gate. All of him was on display as he entered town. A crowd of mostly women and some men had gathered to laugh, holler, and shout profanities at him. When he tried to cover his manhood, some fisher woman threw a hard mutfruit at him. She wheezed with laughter, and shouted “Don’t you ###### try!”.

Damn. This was definitely a low. Fortunately he was in too many battles to really be embarrassed by this kinda crap, even if it still sucked. It went on for a few minutes before a woman suddenly walked directly towards him from the back of the crowd. The woman was slim and about his age from what he could tell. She smirked, thrusted a pair of jeans into his hands, and simply said "Welcome to Far Harbor, stranger." before turning around and rushing back to what looked like a bar.

The crowd booed and grumbled when they saw the stranger had been given clothes. A few assorted vegetables were halfheartedly thrown at him before the crowd started to cleared off. He sighed with relief, and then attempted to pull on the pair of jeans he had been given. They were a little small, but just about right. Flashes of pain came from his leg. He better ask the woman who gave him pants if they had a doctor here. But first he had to see if he could get his stuff back.

He turned around to call the guards from the top of the fortification, seeing their laughter had dried up into chuckling. Before he could say anything, an ancient looking islander stepped up.

"Alright that's enough. [censored] animals, give the boy back his clothes and stop your hollerin'. He did what he was told, ain't gotta make him pay for that."
"He's one of them cultists Longfellow!" someone from the crowd shouted back.
"Hell he could be," the man apparently named Longfellow shrugged, "And he also could be who he says he is. All I know is he sure as hell ain't going to do any harm without a gun or effects, so give him back his britches and lets do this civilized-like."

Well he knew he wasn’t a cultist, he simply had to convince them. He made a mental note to inquire about all of that later. Finally one of the villagers gave him his clothes back. He put underwear on under the jeans, and pulled out a plain grey T-shirt from his rucksack. His old outfit was dirty and damaged from his fall earlier. He stored it away carefully, so it could be cleaned later.

Longfellow stretched out a hand for shaking. He took it, eager to build trust with these people.

"You've come to Far Harbor at a strange time my friend. Name's Longfellow. I trust you really aren't one of them cultists, but just to be safe, we're going to have to put someone to watch you for a little while. Just until we figure out who you are. Nothing personal, but nobody livin' has come out of the fog for awhile now. G'head and have a seat over in the Mariner's old house. Tommy," he addressed one of the townsfolk, "Watch that fella for now until we get a chance to talk with him. Don't let nobody from the town harass him either."

He wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of house arrest. “Could I at least get checked out by a doctor before I go there? I think I suffered some injuries on the way here.”