Wampower

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

James Gregor Castner

"Aye, seems like a good plan," Longfellow nodded, "The townsfolk can start stripping the bird and make some kind of sled from the parts. Ain't got to go far...just far enough to get us back to town. Don't know what to do 'bout the power armor, but I'll leave that to you two," He said, pointing to the two James', "Lets get this done and get this done quick. I don't want to be out here any longer than we have to. Them cultists might be back any moment now."

James nodded and went back to the power armor. His custom suit was still in the back where he had left it and he gazed towards it appreciatively. The helmet, right leg, and right arm had all been replaced with shiny T-51b, while the rest was all the original T-45. Just looking at it brought back memories of the good years. He reflexively reached around, popped open the back, and jumped in.

James mumbled an involuntary “hoorah”, as he felt the systems come online.

While the Enclaver grabbed all the corpses they cared for, he carefully detached the minigun. He directed him to grab the three Brotherhood men as well. Maybe they deserved something better than this.

James proceeded to direct the townspeople to what was and wasn’t important. He chose the islanders to use the two remaining suits for now, distributed the equipment evenly, and showed them the strongest and most useful salvage. It was not much more than an hour later when they left what remained of the Vertibird behind, departing into the night.

Back in the town…

At first, the mood was like any celebrating the return of victorious Knights. It was always that way before the reality of the casualties was realized. More shed tears for Avery than just Corrine. Even though the Enclaver and him knew that they were holding something else entirely, he didn’t have the heart to break it to them.

James was unlocking the 5th crate when the call came from the Watch: “Something’s coming!” He got up and quickly fell in behind the Enclaver as his stomach sank. Another attack now? Despite his power armor, he wasn’t exactly battleworthy.

The Enclaver turned and talked over his shoulder as they got up the stairs, "If this is an attack we need stall them up long enough for Brooks to hand out the weapons and supplies."

He nodded and unslung his own weapon. As he peered off into the void, a single light bobbed its way towards them like it was being carried on a large murky wave. Once it got closer, he could see it was a singular cultist wearing… pre-war marine armor? He was more than a little dumbfounded at the walking contradiction coming towards them.

The figure spoke with a voice that was filled with both conviction and authority,

"Hold your fire," the armored cultist asked, a male voice audible through the helmet, "I'm not here to fight. I'm here to retrieve the bodies of our fallen brothers and sisters. The one you know as 'Avery', we know by another name. She is not the friend you once knew, I'm sorry to say. Captain Avery was dead long before today. The woman you killed...should be with her family, not with you. Do us this kindness...and we will return the favor in kind."

As usual, he wasn’t sure what to say. Words weren’t always his strong suit. Corrine glanced side to side and saw that indeed, the harborfolk seemed to have each looked to her, expecting her to respond. "What," she began, though it came out as a combination of a croak and a squeak. "Avery was one of ours, born 'n' raised on the Island, no matter what she...what she chose later," she called down. "She may have spent 'er last days...elsewhere, but her family, her real family, are the folks who stand with me here and behind this wall."

She started to shake. James felt a pang of worry. "Her roots," she began, her voice breaking, "her roots are here, with us. I'm sorry fer your loss, but our loss is deeper. Simple as that."

Corrine paused, to realize people were still staring at her. "Ah...oh, I guess I mean...no. Ya can't have Avery." Seemingly flustered, She looked around to the stony faces of the other harborfolk. "Well, ain't I right?!"

"I have an question, well two actually" James stated with Brotherhood armour voice box echoing it down to the helmeted cultist "How did you know Avery was an synth? and do you know why it had replaced Avery?”

This was a mess. On one hand, there was no doubting Avery was a synth. The tech in her head showed that. To make matters worse, she wasn’t just a synth; she, or it, was a replacement. That made his stomach churn and his neck hairs rise. He had doubted Maxson’s grand conceptions of Synth spies, but here it was staring him in the face. Scientists somewhere got caught up in their power and only hurt humanity, rather than progressing it. Just like before the Great War.

On the other hand, this synth Avery had been leading these people for a while, as he understood it. She might not have even known she wasn’t real. It also seemed like the cult had done something to brainwash the synths. How else would they go from peaceful hilltop community to cultists foaming at the mouth with devotion? Rose had shown synths have their own kind of brotherhood and it was hard to see them breaking it for some island worship. Even if she wasn’t the original Avery, her true family was still in Far Harbor rather than with this cult.

His words came to him suddenly, sounding harsh and familiar in his power armor accent. “How did the synths of the island become so intimate with you?”, James shouted down. He halted, making sure his wording was right. Then he called down with some heat, “How do synths living peacefully in Acadia or Far harbor just up in leave their homes and become fanatical cultists the next day? No, I think Corrine is right. Whatever Avery was, she was a member of a family here first.”

James realized he may have spoken a little boldly in representation of a town he’d only been in for a day, and turned to Corrine in somewhat sheepish deferment.

Project Exodus

"We will fight on the beaches, we will fight on the landing grounds..."

After a successful mission in antipolo city, the small rescue party grew in number gaining a few valuable soldiers and civilians with them. Now the once lone vehicle party spearheads the newly formed convoy being followed by a few apc's and several jeepneys which were packed to the brim with survivors. "Turn on your radios, their gonna be useless once we enter the city." The radio man said as the gunners popped out of the vehicles manning the machine gun on top, while the soldiers on the jeepney point their guns out at the open windows of the commercial vehicle.

The city was quiet, only the hums of the engines, the cry of animals and the heavy footsteps of the orc partrols. Luckily the caravan was fast enough to avoid most of the orcs but, with the old engines of the jeepneys echoing out on the trip, it was impossible to sneak their way into the city.

Soon, the patrols were alerted because of the noisy engines making them charge into the convoy. With a couple of lucky shoots and close calls the convoy starts speeding up in attempts to survive the encounter. While the soldiers in the jeepney were firing at the attackers. Speeding into the distance they had to escape and in time they would find themselves in MOA one of the nation's largest malls.

The jeepneys quickly formed into a curve as orcs from surroundings rush in, in hopes of overwhelming the assailants, and in an effort to keep the civvies safe. But, the oddest part of the situation was the sounds of the ships near the coast.

The small remnants of a British fleet were moving full speed to the shallow waters, their colors flapping chaotically in the wind. There were five ships in total, including four frigates and a cruiser. Explosions behind them sent geysers of salt water into the air and sometimes chunks of bloody flesh. The crew sent up a half hearted cheer with each hit, but they knew from the radar that they couldn't possibly hit as many leviathan as there were on their tail. The only hope was to get to the shallows or, god forbid, run aground.

Admiral Andrew Clay didn't bother cheering. He knew it was the end of their luck. They had been very fortunate when they successfully drained the oil out of a coastal plant 100 kilometers ago and even surviving this long. The beginning of their end could be seen when the frigate HMS Monmouth started sagging behind, dipping into the water from the back. That meant a few Naga had hooked the ship and sson more would as the ship started slowing down. There was still a chance, but a small one.

"Ready the torpedoes!", he shouted to his crew on the cruiser HMS Brighton. They had one shot at saving the HMS Monmouth and it involved a lucky hit on the leviathan once they attached themselves to the ship. The Monmouth managed to gain some speed as the crew desperately shot machine guns into the water, killing Naga almost as fast they could be replaced.

But then, doom came. The huge shadows of leviathan. There was another bloody geyser as one ran into a couple hasty depth charges, but there were too many. Just a few more seconds and they wouldn't be able to dodge the torpedoes... "Fire!", he shouted. He could feel a rumble through his ship as the torpedoes launched towards their targets. He wasn't sure how many hit or miss, but several huge bloody geysers shot up. The ship was freed for the time being.

Clay could see they were approaching the coast. There wasn't enough time for them all to move into the channel. They couldn't celebrate their narrow escape yet though. Their ships would be stranded for a while and he could hear sounds of gunfire not far away.

Soon, as your fleet nears the coastline you can see the imagine of a tall ferris wheel, large buildings and multiply stadium looking buildings near a large structure. As you get closer and closer the realization that a port was out of the questions as the a lone pier and a small fish depot were all in sight.

Infront suggest an reclaim land project as the sea level doesn't show any signs of lowering as your ship seems to be able to carry on just fine under the waters but, soon large waves of leviathan emerged from the waters showing themselves to you. Some of them were reptilian in nature, while others looked like the mythical kraken while the others looked like a giant serpent, one of which lunged into the air into one of your boats.

As the convoy makes it last stand the sounds of the boats and the leviathans fighting was heard. "Quite pack up before they overrun us." The female that seems to be the leader orders, making the soldiers get in the jeepneys, while inside they started shooting at the horde of orcs and avians in their way, while the others get into their APC.

After the engines turn on they start speeding, heading towards the coast of the mall, giving them an heads up to the four ships getting attacked by the large leviathan. "Maria they from the brits." The gunner said as he keeps on firing. "Let me up." She said as she takes out a rocket launcher, going up takes aim at the leviathan latched on one of the ships and fires hitting it in the eyes making it thumble from the ship.

She signals the captain with both of her arms then pointing at the horde chasing them. "FIRE AT THEM!" She yells out expecting for them to lay down fire support.

Clay had hoped they could take shelter in the channels, but that rapidly diminished as a veritable horde of leviathan rose off the coast. A trap, it seemed.

"Fire everything! It's now or never men!", he shouted to his deck officers and broadcasted to the ship. A giant snake swiftly latched onto the HMS Argyll, but the others seemed slower. Enough time to aim the cannons and anti-aircraft guns at the beasts. It was risky with the coast so near. Any missed shots would pummel the Mall or the land around it, but he doubted there were many people left.

His men, the brave bastards, were scrabbling up from the lower decks with what machine guns, rocket launchers, and assault rifles they had left and firing up at the monsters. It seemed like they were doing some damage too. Their hide must not be too thick?

Suddenly a rocket streaked from the beach into the eye of the giant snake, damaging it enough to make it relinquish its grasp on the ship. "Admiral! A small group local fighters have engaged the leviathan!", deck officer Felicity called out.

That was an unexpected stroke of good luck. "Men!", he called through the intercom "we've got friendlies on the beach! Be careful with your shots!"

She waits for a much needed support but, gave up when the fleet shown no signs of helping them and as the horde grows even bigger she was running out of options. So in a effort to delay the impossible she grabbed the M2 browning besides her and started firing at the horde. "I CAN'T CONTACT THEM." The radioman yells out as static starts echoing from the radio.

The sound of breaking glass and concrete begins to ring out from the inside of the mall. And a few seconds laters a creature completely covered in crystals burst out from the walls of the mall sending out waves of debris to the surrounding area. "ITS AN IRON HEAD." She yells out as she focused fire at the beast. But, it was essentially bullet proof and it would more then what they had to take it down.

"MARIA! TAKE THIS FLARE!" The driver yells out, as he tosses an flare gun behind him. Making the radio man to dash to it, just to avoid it from accidentally fire inside the APC. "CAREFUL MAN!" He shouts as he barely catches the gun, quickly giving it to Maria manning the turret. "WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO WITH THIS, BLIND IT!?" She yells out as she continues to fire.

"FIRE AT IT AND PRAY THAT THE FLEET ISN'T AS DENSE AS YOU!" He remarks making the others laugh a little, making her grunt in annoyance. She fires launching a velvet bright line at the beast hoping that the fleet response lay down fire support.

And the fleet responded. As the Leviathan weakened from the constant barrage, it was apparent that their new allies were being threatened on the beach. A small flare could be seen by a huge monster and the other hordes. It could have been something else, but Clay knew there was really only one thing it mean: blow this spot to hell. Clay gave the commands and the HMS Richmond and HMS Somerset shifted their extra guns and mortars to that point. The shore bombardment begun

With the commanding blast of the turrets, the shelling has begun, as volley after volley of shells was unleashed into the artificial land that MOA sits on. Cracking the concrete beneath the mall, causing a massive chain of destruction as the ground begins to sink back into the sea.

The first volley decimated the horde, but the crystal giant was still alive but, seconds later the next wave of rounds landed on it and its surroundings, killing it instantly as it falls to its sides. “YES! We got it.” Maria shouts as she watches it fall, as bits of it blows off from its body. But, her celebration was cut short as the land cracks open, as the vicious support worked too well.

“WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!” She yells out as she goes back into the safety of the APC, quickly sealing the hatch making the vehicle speeds up as it guides the convoy to safety.

“It worked too well.” She remarks as the sounds of explosions and snapping of concrete and iron dominates the air. “THE RADIO IS WORKING!” The radio man yells with glee as he quickly establishes the communications with the fleet, quickly tossing the radio to their leader.

“Hello this is Maria acting leader of this small group. Thanks for the support but, you destroyed the nearest place that you can dock. If you keen on landing follow us, there’s a nearby pier and we can cover you.” She proposes as the convoy makes its way to the right, as the mall slowly falls into the sea, making the location into a hazardous location for the fleet.

Clay looked around the deck to see if there were any objections. Nobody raised any. He picked up the radio transmitter and responded: "We'll follow your lead", he said starkly. The ships turned away from the crumbling mall and continued along the coast.

"Ok, just keep up." She said as the apc and the jeepneys speeds up. "So jack, the sea wall should be a temporary port right?" She asks to the driver. "Yep, naga bulldozed through it like our fortifications didn't matter, and it seems like the naga made it into an small outpost after the defense." He answers as several small rows of fortifications can be seen just hugging the seawalls and with them the carcasses of abandoned sea vessels.

"There it is." The pilot remarks as several drums starts beating, alerting the several naga soldiers in the area. "See that?" She asks to the radio. "That’s where you're going to land." She continues as she mounts the machine gun as they ram through the gates inside the makeshift fort, blasting their way into the makeshift docks.

The ships followed the instructions and soon were in the docks. Clay then attempted to radio Maria again. "Thank you for the assistance out there. Is this place safe enough for us to meet face to face, or should we co tongue over the radio?"

The convoy, rams its way into the naga outpost in an attempt to regroup with the fleet. "WE'RE MAKING OUR WAY!" The radio man yells out as gun fire and iron meeting steels erupts from all directions. The naga on the waters near the port lunged into the bottom of the streets as they begin to lay sieges to the mighty warships. The levithan are making progress but, are slowing down because of the level of the water and after a while, decided to bail out.

The military vehicles effortlessly rams through harden sand structures on the coast as they make their way up to you as the jeepney closely follows.
It was becoming evident that they couldn't survive forever against the Naga. In the short and long term. The Filipinos presented opportunity for the future, Clay thought. He knew what had to be done. "Everyone", he started on the intercom "We can't support these ships forever, but our struggle against these brutes will continue on the land. I am initiating Escape Protocol Bravo. For King and Country!"

What followed was complex, but orderly, disembarkment as Royal Marines, sailors, and soldiers came onto the coast with important munitions and supplies. They lined up to get on the Jeepney's, queuing in a way only Brits knew. Utilizing an M3 Amphibious Bridging vehicle, they were able to deploy a group of protected patrol vehicles, including many Foxhounds, Huskies, and RWMIK Land Rovers. Most soldiers had to make do with Jeepneys and nearby abandoned cars. Clay stayed on the ships until everyone got off. Their last act was run the ships into the shore, hoping they wouldn't be too damaged by the approaching naga. Himself, and all the highest ranking officers, got into two armored Mastiffs. With everybody motorized and the cargo loaded onto a few Logistic Support Vehicles, quad bike trailers, and anywhere else they could stuff it, they were prepared to leave.

In time the filipinos were able to break though, with the jeepney littered with arrows and blood. "Get them aboard!" Maria commanded as filipino soldier and militia fighters went up the jeepneys in order for the brits to get fit into the vehicles.

Once filled the drivers floored it, as they make their way to safety. The drivers had trouble with the added weight as a sudden turn could mean a fatal move.

"The soldiers on top made sure that they were keeping the horde in bay as they unledgeds a fury of bullets into the greenies and the approaching harpies. After all of them were there maria ordered them to get out of there. She mounted her gun as she fires at the ones that decided to follow with them and once sure she takes a look at the most important looking person and said. "Sorry about the awful welcoming party." She jokes around as they make their way to their base of operations.

Clay smiled wearily. "Any welcoming party is a blessing for us. Thank you for your help." He was upset the fleet had to be abandoned, but with this defeat came with a kind of victory. He gazed at Maria and the rest of the Filipino convoy appraisingly. They seemed a good lot. His men were already telling war stories with their new comrades.

Clay turned back to Maria, "I hope we can work together. We'll discuss the details later, I imagine, but most of my men and resources can be put to your efforts."

"Hope so." She replies. "Cause we're gonna need it for to liberate this city."She continues as she pulls out a map with various symbols.

"But, for now I'm gonna need some shut eye." She said as she closes her eyes and leans on the seat, catching some much needed sleep.

Looking around the group is mostly a bunch of hastily trained men and women, with the exception of maria and the others. But, at the same time this strangers were now conversing and sharing talks about mundane, funny, scary, and couragous situation that happened to them. Cracking a joke or two to lighten up the mood.

"Sweet dreams," Clay offered with a tinge of humor. Looking around at the men, he was happy to see them in some good spirits. He felt an unfamiliar twinge of hope, but suspected the worst was to come .

He reached for smoke in one of his old frayed pockets, but remembered they had ran out of them long ago. He grunted and contented himself by leaning back into his musings. He was certainly tired after facing one of the greatest challenges in all of his 35 years.

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

James Gregor Castner

Rose looked up at him with watery eyes, and she eyed him with stern suspicion,

"You're the Brotherhood soldier aren't you?" She asked peevishly, "What would it matter to you that these Synths died? Just a few less abominations to wipe out in the world right?"

He didn’t know what to say. She turned back to looked at the dead cultist lying before her,

"But if you really want to know what they mean to me...family I suppose, in an odd way. I don't know any of them by name, but I recognize their faces somehow. As if I've seen them before. All Synths come from the same source, the same...home...if you can call it that. Maybe...maybe before the Institute's security measures wiped my memory...maybe I knew them somehow, and now I only have the faintest hint of recognition."

It was a kind of shared family. Not unlike when soldiers could recognize other soldiers, no matter the conflict they were a part of. All synths recognizing each other to some extent could help them survive, but it also could be a boon to anyone of their enemies. Again he didn’t say anything.

Rose then stood up, wiped her eyes and sighed,

"It doesn't matter now I guess. They were trying to kill you, and I suppose you did what you had to do. Look I don't know why there would be Synths among the cultists, but something tells me there's a lot more to these people than we realize...."

“I’m sorry about your family.”, he said a little abruptly. “I feel the same way about those men over there”, he pointed at the dead knights “I didn’t really know them, but we were both a part of a bigger family I used to have connections with”. He paused for a few moments. “Look”, he said with more certainty “I’m not really with Maxson anymore. I was sent on this mission to disappear from his ideal Brotherhood and I doubt I’ll ever head back.” He looked over to Avery’s crushed synth parts that peeked out of her ruined head and had an idea. “The synths have a computerized part in their brain right? Maybe the Cult somehow hacked them and forced them to do this? Or maybe their control over animals extends to humans…”

After his conversation with Rose was done, James decided to take full scope of the devastation and walk amongst the wreckage and bodies. Three dead Knights out of power armor. He carefully lifted the strange white rags the cultists placed on them, grimacing as the cultists handiwork was revealed. It was immediately apparent that Knight Jackson hadn't survived the crash. He would say it was poetic justice for being an asshole, but nobody deserves being nearly crushed in half by a hunk of steel. The other two were shot full of grimy radioactive rounds from the cultists. He grabbed their holotags and gingerly reapplied the white rags. All he felt for them was a hollow sadness for fellow soldiers. He would prefer to bury or burn them, but he was aware that probably wasn't an option. The vertibird equipment came first.

James then surveyed the wreckage. The Vertibird had a nasty crash on it’s side with scorched earth and pieces of it all around. The whole structure was propped up at an angle by the gnarled right wing, whose ravaged rotor was weighing it down on that side. The left wing was yards behind the craft. The massive hole through both sides of the bird gaped menacingly, but it also provided an easier entrance point than the cargo door in the back.

The cultists had already pulled out all of the hardened steel crates out of the wreckage and left them scattered around. They had even managed to pick a few of the locks, though they didn’t have the time to make off with any of the loot. He remembered the manifest and he still had a key that could open all the crates. All that was needed was to carry it back. Twelve crates in total carrying a few spare AER9s and R91s, fusion cells and bullets, fusion cores, military rations, medicine, water straight from the D.C. purifier, and radio equipment. All emergency backups and surplus, but still useful in the current situation.

James pulled himself up into the vertibird through the hole, wincing at the pain in his leg and chest. He would have to go to the doc again back in town. Stopping to catch his breath, he looked around the tiny wrecked interior of the vertibird. It felt like it had been a week since he fell out of this bird, not a single day. In that time, he had joined a mission not unlike those he completed with Lyon’s Pride. Originally, Knight Brendan had planned to acquire lodging with the locals, while they found out what they could. If they had successfully landed, would he still have been able to help out like he was now? He doubted it.

The left door minigun was still securely in it’s dock, while the right was hopelessly twisted from the forces of the crash. With some help, he could securely detach the left and re-dock it somewhere else. No need to use power armor to rip it off. And yes, the four power armor suits were still securely docked in the back with fusion cores. None of the suits had fallen and still stood stoically, though at the same angle as the vertibird. He squeezed between them and opened the cargo door. It was bent at the right edge, but it creaked down all the same.

Through the door, he could see Steve was awake. He rushed over to find they were talking about burying Avery… and the little mutated monster with her. He looked at Steve strangely, unsure what the badly wounded man was talking. Maybe it was the shock talking? Once he was done he spoke: “We’re in the money with the supplies and power armor, guys. And there’s one minigun still operational. We just need to get it back to town”, he looked at the jagged bits of hull scattered around “Maybe we could make some kind of sleigh to put the crates on?”

War Never Changes

@Inkarnate Coolio, because the Cult is attacking you right now I think.

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

James Gregor Castner

James was halfway through his second rack of cells when he finally lined up the shot on the cultist, firing a burning shot through the man’s torso. He collapsed instantly. Before he could shift attention to the other cultist, who was now wildly spraying bullets outside of cover, the other James put a plasma bolt in him.

A blissful silence descended on them as the green glow of plasma faded. His breath was ragged as he reloaded his laser rifle. The firefight took something out of him besides blood. Suddenly two more burst up near him and he hastily drew his .44. Before he could send a few wild shots at them, a crackling volley of rifle shots took them down.

Longfellow and a few others came out of the woods, guns still smoking.

"Not as spry as I used to be, but hell if I still got it...." he muttered with a grin, sounding half drunk. James could have hugged the old coot, but he was too exhausted.

“Thanks for the assist”, he said slowly, gasping from exertion. He grasped some stimpacks and bandages from one of his pockets and applied them to his leg wound, where a bullet had grazed him. One of the harbor folk helped him, and got him to his feet. James looked around at the aftermath, processing all that had happened.

Then he remembered Steve being attacked. He stumbled over to him as quickly as he could. It looked like he had been shot and chewed on by some animal. The little monster he had tried to shoot earlier, now feeling guilty that it had slipped past him.

"Why?", Steve suddenly shouted in anguish, "Why did we have to die? What did we do wrong?" before starting to cry. It looked like he was in some kind of shock.

He quickly went down on his knees and applied a stimpack to Steve’s injured arm and chest. As he applied them, he said what he would say to anyone who was a part of his unit: “you’re gonna be ok. You’ll make it, buddy”, he wasn't sure that was the the case, but he said it as fervently as he could.

"NO!", shouted one of people in the clearing. Another Far Harbor resident lost to the cult and killed in the firefight?. Then the woman sprinted between the other cultists, finally arriving at the two Longfellow had killed.

"NOO!" She screamed again, and collapsed to the forest floor sobbing. He wasn’t sure what to do.

"T-t-they're" She stammers, "..they're...Synths."

He looked at Corrine sympathetically. "I'll see what she's talking about", he said as he got up from beside Steve. He remembered the woman Corrine had been crying over was a synth, and it appeared the others were too. He was skeptical of Maxson’s demonization of the synths, but he was still cautious of them. Fake men could hide any number of secrets. It certainly meant something that the cultists they’d were all synths.

He hesitantly walked up to the sobbing woman, and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry for your loss”, he said uncertainly. He decided to risk a question. “What were these synths to you? Why would they all join the cult”.

(OOC I think this is the first time my James has met Rose. And sorry, had to take care of these other things before scavenging the vertibird.)

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

James Gregor Castner

The little creature was fast enough to dodge his shot, but the same couldn’t be said for Cult leader. A headshot from Steve ended her in a sickening way. He could hear her skull and headdress crunch… and something else. Her broken headdress tumbled off dramatically to reveal an older ethnic woman, with bits of plastic and wires poking out from the bloody hole.

A Synth? Why?

"NO!" Corrine shrieked, startling him. It must have been a former friend of hers who joined the Cult. She stood straight up in shock.

"THIS IS THE UNITED STATES MILITARY, SURRENDER NOW OR BE FIRED UPON."

"MURDERERS!", shouted back a cultist.

And then chaos erupted. The cultists started firing on them with makeshift assault rifles, while one one sprinted towards Corrine with a meathook. Before he could fire back, pain split through his thigh. Training kept him from faltering. He grunted and raised his rifle, taking careful aim at the center of mass of one of the gun toting cultists, and sent two blasts in his direction. He dropped to a prone position to reduce his size.

Corrine suddenly stumbled directly into the range of fire, sobbing incoherently over the dead synth.

“CORRINE GET DOWN! FLATTEN YOURSELF!”, he shouted a little panickedly. He fired a volley of rushed shots around the enemies, hopefully suppressing them from firing at Corrine. He thought he heard Steve getting attacked, but he was too busy trying to cover Corrine.

War Never Changes

Governor of New Houston and President of the Confederation Harris - New Vegas

"This is General Shu. I suppose by now you have heard what has happened, suffice to say things will be getting rather ugly in the NCR in the next few weeks. There is going to be a lot of house cleaning and a lot of changes - by that point, I have to ask a favor from you President Harris," spoke Shu, as the conductor called that they would be arriving in Shady Sands in the next ten minutes.

“Yes it was just announced, and I’m aware of the situation your forces are in, Harris replied.

"Namely - before he died President Kimball deployed several units along your border. Now with the declaration from Mr. House and Vegas - we are unable to get them out of there, without leaving several tons of equipment for looters and other bandits to get," spoke Shu, his voice sounding rather tired. It reminded Harris of his own weariness.

"I am asking, if it is possible - for the Texas Confederation to temporarily occupy our base-camp and provide our soldiers the opportunity to spend their mandatory leave there?" asked General Shu.

Harris had been expecting something like this might happen when the reports had come in the night before of the situation in New Mexico. “Yes I think we can accommodate them.”

"I know this might be asking a lot - but at this moment, I fear that the New California Republic is at its lowest in recorded history-" Shu said, soon several protesters could be heard. All of them shouting 'down with NCR'. Dark times indeed. Harris felt uneasy for citizens to be protesting such radical action "-not to mention, it looks like people are a few days away from rioting against the Government."

"I know, this is might seem much. But your the only other nation I'd trust with military equipment...or at least the only other democratic state in the entire American wasteland that has the right of protest and open discussions," he finished. "So do we have a deal?"

“Of course, General Shu. Your men can proceed to Fort Bliss, where I guarantee they will be given good accomodations. These are dark times for democratic states. Many men here at this convention arrogantly spit on our ideals, but we must endure for our people. I wish you good luck with your government. Speak to our embassy, or call me again if you need any more assistance from Texas.”

War Never Changes

General Davis - Norman, Oklahoma

The map in front of him had been set as accurately as it could be. Alone in his tent, except for a steady fiddle player in the corner, he pored over a map of his surroundings. Every settlement and faction in central Oklahoma as of the past 6 months, reverified by Ranger scouts. He prided himself on his careful maintenance of an information network screening his every move, but there were things that just weren’t possible like they were in the old days. His men couldn’t be sure of the tribal makeup of Oklahoma city, or if there were any Midwestern observers or outposts. Even though his army was strong enough to face anything, he wanted the operation as clean as possible. There were a large number of settlers traveling with them from New Dallas, eager to set up new homes and caravan routes north to the Midwest.

He sipped steaming Keynesian coffee as he shifted his thoughts. While the wasteland’s powers were focused on the southwestern conflict or the cult, little notice had been given to his force, as far as he understood. It was going exactly as Governor Harris wanted. While he was a New Dallasian through and through, the plan that had come from Harris’s office was a good one. The assault was timed to more or less coincide with the convention, taking Oklahoma City before the Midwest really knew what was happening, and then offer some control of the region to them: an olive branch on Texan terms. While he still questioned the idea of cooperating with the armored devils, it had to be done, according to Harris, because of the NCR’s decline.

He remembered that he needed to go reiterate terms with the Angels of War Harris had hired out to him. He exited his tent and made his way over to the other side of camp, where the Angels of War were camped. The other forces he had at disposal were 4,000 regulars, 750 professionals, 300 cavalry, and 150 Texan Rangers. The supply lines had been difficult this far north, but manageable. The troops were exercising in space between the tents currently and they saluted as he passed.

He came to the tent and greeted the guard. “Howdy. I’m here to speak to the commander.”, he said casually.

Senior Airman Adam Piler - Over Mexico

“Goddamn they’re fast…”, Adam Piler drawled under his breath as he hurtled after the hellions. He had clawed his way to what he thought was the top of tech, only to be nearly outdone in his first non practice engagement by some spaceship looking jet.

Only nearly… fancy equipment wasn’t everything

“Situation?, over”, Teagan asked starkly over comms.

“Nothing’s changed, over”, he responded

Need to remember to be quiet on missions with her…

“They’re still heading towards Albuquerque. No other NCR troops since the last convoy. Any orders to engage?, over”, he continued.

“None. We just need to keep track of them and take pictures of their fueling station, and then retreat immediately, over.”

“Understood, over.”

In theory, it wasn’t harder than any other training mission. But there were more lives on the line than theirs this time.... He dispelled the thoughts and refocused on the silver shape ahead.

Governor of New Houston and President of the Confederation Harris - New Vegas

"My state of existence has enabled me to take a long view of things...something Governor Harris and I have in common”

That was true, in a sense. He remembered some of the pre-war holovids about China, even though he was young when the Great War happened. They were some of the only things to watch in the family bunker. While propagandistic to be sure, they showed what happened to orders like the Midwest’s. To those who played at being philosopher kings. Their people starved and their nation crumbled, while they paraded around their “achievements”.

After his last appeal, the Legion-Brotherhood-House alliance primarily had the floor. Mostly backing up their anti NCR position. He had the reports on the NCR armies the night before. Kimball had made arrogant risks, and would pay the price. But that didn’t invalidate the NCR’s democracy. There was a dangerously violent declaration from Pennsylvania, which also prematurely announced the plans for the Prosperity Sphere. The violent outburst made him wonder for a second why he was bothering to work with them, yet he knew there could be safety and monetary and benefit to such an alliance. Still, if the Pennsylvanians proved too volatile and violent to uphold the Sphere’s principles…

House was just finishing his rhetoric, and if nothing else happened after that he would announce his plans for Oklahoma. “The rest of you can hide behind beautiful ideologies as much as you’d like, but Titus Crassius is right. Lucius will stay upright for longer than most of you because he has made the decisions that have kept he and his people alive…If you’d like to witness the fate of democracy, I implore you to look out the windows.”

If you want to see the fate of ‘enlightened’ kings like yourself, Mr. House, I implore you to read a history book. Because there’s nothing left of them but dust.

“Mr. President. A radio transmission from General Shu of the NCR. He requested you”, a Ranger said quietly as he approached from behind.

He nodded, and moved to whisper in Angela’s right ear. “Keep an eye on progress. Don’t be afraid to discuss with them. If we’re too quiet, they’ll take it as a sign of weakness.”

She simply nodded, while remaining hawkishly focused on everyone. The girl was good at observation, that was sure. He went with the ranger to a transmitter that had been set up in a backroom for just an occasion like this.

“This is President Harris. How can I be of assistance?”

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

James Gregor Castner

As they delved further into the brush, following the ticking of the tracker, James’s mind wandered. What if the crew survived? Earlier he’d decided that he’d fight them if he had to, but should he try to convince them to help? Or even lie? There wasn’t a good answer. He’d just have to see what happened when they arrived.

As they pushed further into the undergrowth, he could suddenly make out silhouettes of several people. He was tempted to call to whoever it was, thinking it could be his comrades, but something didn’t feel right. That instinct was confirmed when the forms became more clear: cultists. Four of them, with some sort of pet mutant. And… three bodies. His brothers. Whatever harsh feelings he had towards them were forgotten for the moment at the sight of their blood, of the cultists treating them like trash.

"Well?" A feminine voice asks, "What have you learned? The Prophet is eager to know why The Brotherhood is here."

One of the cultists stood and approached the leader with a bow, "The craft and its passengers were indeed armed high priestess, but we have no indication that there was any more to this group than the corpses we recovered. It seems unlikely they came to attack us and perhaps merely wandered off course."

"Or it is a scouting party," The head cultists replies as she pets the gulper, who snuggles into her open palm eagerly, "The Brotherhood would be apt to send such an expedition to asses a situation, and then they would send their soldiers to wipe us out. Such is their way."

"Surely they would not dare. They could not hope to succeed..."

"That would not deter them...in any case, The Prophet has foreseen this eventuality. We must destroy all evidence of this craft and capture any Brotherhood soldiers that remain and bring them to The Prophet. Plant the explosives and take the bodies, we will take them to the Deep Fog and bury them in The Mother's grace. Everything else goes to The Nucleus."

The cultist bows, "Of course. By The Mother it will be done."

The cultists then continue about their work, hurrying to obey the commands of this 'high priestess' and unaware of the group's presence.

James would like to seem these cult freaks try to resist Maxson’s war machine, but that wasn’t going to happen as far as he knew. Though more might come when they get no report back. He couldn’t allow them to blow up the vertibird, that was for sure.

“Well if we want the brotherhood gear looks like we are gonna have to fight for it.” James whispered to the group “don’t seem to have noticed us yet so we could attempt to sneak around and fire on them from all sides... Loud but should get the job done quick. ”

"You're kidding?" Corrine hissed. "There's at least four of them, plus the leader, and the gulper -- and please trust me when I say they are stronger than they look -- even if we take out one or two before they see us, we're still outnumbered."

“Or...” James added on, “since I’m injured I could run out, act like fish face just attacked me and ask for help, make a big show out of it. Assuming they don’t just attempt to shot at me on sight whilst they are distracted dealing with me you can sneak up and take them out quietly or hell maybe even try to capture them.”

"Who do ya think yer talkin' to? Because I ain't actually shot a gun before and last I checked, ammo was limited." She looked between Castner, James, then Steve. "They think the Brotherhood were scoutin' the place out, and are lookin' for survivors to take back to their base. The Nucleus. That means they've done something with...or, to...the Children of Atom." Corrine shook her head, sadly. "We can pose as Brotherhood, all of us, and just let ourselves be captured, get into the heart of the cult and find some way to...you know...make it explode. It's a pre-war nuclear sub. We'd save the town, at least." She swallowed. "Not sure we stay alive for many more hours, otherwise, considering our condition and their numbers."

He was silent during this exchange, gauging their ideas. The vertibird supplies could definitely help the town in the short term, but a few laser rifles and some power armor might not be enough in the long term. The chance of successfully infiltrating the Nucleus seemed slim, but not a bad idea. but they were going to blow the vertibird if they didn’t act.

“For once I agree with the Enclaver. We need those supplies. We could attempt to infiltrate the nucleus another night, but tehy’re going to blow up what we need right now if we don’t do something.”, he whispered urgently. He turned to the Enclaver. His offer to be a distraction was noble, but seemed unnecessary. “I don’t think we need to you to do that James. We have enough of an advantage by catching them from surprise at multiple angles.”, he looked to Corrine next, though he addressed all of them. “I think we can take them if we have Steve and I fire our powerful guns against the leader and the gulper. Those two can either rally the troops, or sniff us out with their… enhanced abilities.”

Project Exodus

Toronto, Canada.

King George VII looked out across the vast roaring crowd below him, as he walked onto the podium. The mega screens behind him stopped broadcasting the Legacy Gate timer momentarily to focus on his smiling face as they usually did. They all waved their little Union Jacks when they saw him come on the screens. The Canadians loved him as much as the Londoners, it seemed. Well it might have something to do with all of his investments into their healthcare and science. They love progress in the colonies.

He waved harder, covering every direction as he moved up to his speaking place. Surely half of them felt like they had been personally waved to. He dramatically tapped the mic, and a sudden silence fell over the crowd. He stared paternally across the crowd for a moment as he was supposed to, and felt a familiar surge of love and responsibility. There was as much show as there was genuine feeling in his royal performances. It wasn’t like the strategy games he played on his tiny vacations.

“People of Canada”, he boomed elegantly across the crowd. “This is a truly historic day across our United Kingdom!”, he paused for cheers “Soon Legacy will connect our realm to another place. A place where we can establish humanity beyond our planet! All British peoples across the Empire will rejoice as we take to the stars together. The Legacy Gate in fair Toronto will open soon, but I suspect more of you are watching the massive construction in New York. I will stay with you, my people, and watch this evolution for humankind!”, more cheering as the TVs switched back to the countdown.

He moved to the rows of chairs that had been prepared for the royal entourage. His wife Catherine, Duchess of Edinburgh, was there waiting for him in the chair designated next to his. She had been a childhood friend of his, so the demanded leap to marriage with her didn’t too feel strange. They had grown to love each other in a way, and she was quite a beautiful Scott.

“You really do have a way with them”, she said playfully as he took his seat. “Is it as easy as it is to charm you?”

He smiled as he straightened in his chair like he was supposed to. “Basically. You’ll get to try yourself soon anyways. Don’t you have a line of beauty products coming out?”

She chuckled and he turned to look at the timer. 30 minutes ‘till god knows what happened. He put 100 men in that experimental power armor near the gate on the outskirts of the city, but he was uneasy. Would they stride forth onto some virgin pasture in another galaxy? Or would something terrible stride out to meet them?

London, England

In a secure conference room beneath all the palaces and attractions of London, Prime Minister Oliver Chambers was with other ranking government officials and parliamentarians. He was focused on the screens with only a few others, while most of the others enjoyed small talk of the holidays and brandy. The lead up to this Legacy Gate had lasted months and years, so the legacy gates actually opening was boring them. They were tired, as was he, from all the speeches, functions, and grand celebrations. But he was still anxious as ever that something could be going wrong with the project. As much as he spoke on it’s promise, as much he knew what it could promise, there was still something unsettling about it all. He adjusted his glasses and sipped the mug someone had handed him earlier. Tea? Tea. Minty as well.

One of the screens showed the King’s speech in Toronto. It was short and nearly drowned in cheers, but inspiring and energetic. Though unfortunately they’d have to have another talk on proper length. The young king was well practiced in commoner appeal, but his adherence to the finer points left something to be desired. Typical. He’d make sure to mention when he was back in London. They were closer than most liked in Parliament, but it was as much friendship as it was politics that bound them.

“Prime Minister?”

His momentary lapse of concentration ceased, as the courier had approached him. He sat up in his chair.

“Yes?”

“The Royal Society are on the line, and so is the agency in New York.”

He stiffened. Were his fears confirmed? He got up quickly and nearly stumbled after being seated for so long. He grabbed the telephone in the corner and opened the first call he could. Doctor Evans was panicky. Much higher energy readings than expected were coming through. He urged him to do everything possible in his power and to ready the future soldiers if need be. Then he picked up the call from New York. Apparently there was some kind of explosion inside the laboratory. Again, he urged them to do what they could. But he knew that was very little.

The only thing he could do was call the King. Even though the incidents were small, he knew something was amiss. He hadn't gotten this far without trusting his senses in potential crisis situations. He dialed the number, and after a few rings the Kings handler picked up.

He didn't shout when he finally connected, but he made sure to command. “The King needs to get to the bunker. I don’t care what he said to the crowd, somethings going on with the gates.”