Fallout: A Post Nuclear Message Board RPG

[WeZil]

OOC: PM me first before you join, or you will be asked to leave. K? Now that we have that settled... On with the background history!

History of Fallout:

It all started with the Energy Crisis of 2051. America had pumped almost all of its oil wells dry, and practically had Mexico under its thumb with political pressure to keep the refineries running. It wasn't too long until the Resource war broke out. It started in the Middle East, when they raised the prices on oil. Britain met their prices with war, and blood followed. To make matters worse, a disease simply called the New Plague broke out and killed tens of thousands of people, and forced the United States to issue a National Quarantine. Then came Project Safehouse.

As the Euro-Middle-Eastern conflict rages on, terrorists armed with nuclear weapons destroy Tel Aviv. Limited Nuclear weapon use began to ensue, and the United States began to get worried. The Government then enacted Project Safehouse, a project that would build 122 self sufficient underground vaults across the United States, and protect those deemed necessary to the survival of the United States. Drills are conducted frequently, and leave many disillusioned of Nuclear Threat. Many begin to ignore the drills and just stay home.

America, growing paranoid about its oil reserves in Alaska, begins to pressure Canada into letting US troops into Canadian Territory so that they can protect the Alaskan Pipeline. It wasn't to long after that the Euro-Middle-Eastern conflict ended with the last oil well in the Middle East. With no more oil in the Middle East, the United States gets even more paranoid and seeks to find an alternative power source. China begins to become more aggressive with the United States, demand that they export oil for their Fossil Fuel dependency. The United States refused, and to add insult to injury, the first crude fusion cell was developed.

In 2066, China invaded Alaska to take the oil wells. Canada is reluctant to let the United State's military pass through their land or air, and tensions rise. Eventually Canada breaks down and lets the military through. It was then that a new weapon was tested on the Chinese army. Power Armor. A fully sealed suit of armor that increases the wearer's strength while protecting the user from bullets, grenades, and other weapons. They prove extremely effective against tanks, in instances where one man in power armor was sent to take on 3 tanks, and won.

At this point China began using Biological weapons. In response, the United States started the Pan-Immunity Virion Project, or the PVP. Eventually, after tests the military adopted this project and changed it to FEV, the Forced Evolutionary Virus, a Virus that would stimulate the body to mutate. The military hoped to bread an army of super strong, super intelligent soldiers with this. Tests began right away.

With the United States ripping Canadian Resources from the Canadians, protests begin raging across Canada. Eventually, somebody attacks the Alaskan Pipeline, giving the military a good excuse to annex Canada. By 2076, Canada was annexed as a part of the United States of America. Protesters are shot on sight, and images of the atrocities cause more unrest in the homeland.

On October 23, 2077, the inevitable happened. Nobody knows who launched the bombs first, but nuclear warheads launched from both sides and screamed to their targets. Air raid sirens sound, but few take head because of a "Cry Wolf" effect that the Drills had on them. Those who didn't go to the vaults when they should have were locked out, and died. There are those who were far enough away from the many bomb blasts that they could survive. Thus, the United States of America was reduced to a cracked, barren wasteland.

Not to long after 2077, a group of Military defectees emerged from the Mariposa Military Base. They squared their shoulders and set out to an underground bunker where they could live. These former soldiers would form the Brotherhood of Steel, an organization that protects advanced technology from the hands of Evil that now live in the wastelands. They have the most advanced technology out there. Power Armor, Heavy weapons, Energy Weapons, and advanced Medical Technology.

Vault 12 opened in 2083, releasing its changed inhabitants. Vault 12 never closed, and its inhabitants were horribly mutated into what are now called Ghouls, and formed the Necropolis. The Ghouls are Zombie like in appearance. Their skin rots, and pieces of them tend to fall off everywhere, but the perk is that they are capable of ages up to 500 years old. They face many prejudices from the "normals" as they call the unchanged people of the world.

Then came The Master. Establishing a religion, The Master, a fleshy being that is part of a computer, begins to seek people. Exposing them to FEV, he creates the Super Mutants. Hulking brutish beasts that are as smart as a rock and just as capable of having children. He begins to abduct people and raid Vaults, building an army of Super Mutants.

In the year 2161, Vault 13 opened and released the legendary Vault Dweller. Vault 13's water chip broke, and they needed it to filter radiation from the water they pumped up. The Vault Dweller was sent on a mission to find a new one in the wastes, as well as scout and find information about the world. It was in the Necropolis that the Vault Dweller found a Water Chip, as well as a Super Mutant. It was here the Vault Dweller learned of The Master. When he returned to Vault 13, he was charged with a new mission: Bring and end to The Master. The task seemed impossible, so the Vault Dweller went to the Brotherhood of Steel for help. After being charged with a "Death Mission" to The Hole, a highly radioactive pit in the earth, the Vault Dweller became a member of the Brotherhood. After being armed, he went on to the Mariposa Military Base. Here he found the base now was inhabited by mutants and Cultists who worked to raise the super mutant army in the FEV Vats. The Vault dweller destroyed the vaults, and then went onto the Cathedral, where he found The Master infused with the computer of a Vault. He killed the Master and escaped before a self destruct mechanism went off, and returned to his home, the Vault. It was there that he was cast out for becoming what they feared, an outsider. He traveled far to the north and found the village of the Arroyo and lived his life peacefully, a legend to those in the south. The Super Mutants, without a leader, travel about and form their own communities.

80 years after the events of the Vault Dweller, in 2241, the Chosen One, a descendent of the Vault Dweller, is charged with a mission to find the Holy Geck (Garden of Eden Creation Kit) and bring it back to save Arroyo from a horrible drought. He travels far to the south, to the Holy Vault 13, and retrieves the GECK, only to return home and find that his village was destroyed. The village shaman is still alive to tell the Chosen One that the culprits traveled west, and so the Chosen One left. He came across the Enclave, an organization that has even more advanced technology than the Brotherhood of Steel. After getting an Oil Tanker to travel to the Enclave Base on an Oil Rig, the Chosen One challenges the Enclave. It is here that he finds out what the Enclave really is: The Remnants of the United States Government. It is also here that he finds that the Enclave seeks to use variations of the FEV to exterminate the population of the Mainland which they have deemed changed enough to not be considered human. The Chosen one kills the President of the United States and sets the self destruct mechanism into play. He begins to lead his people out when he encounters Frank Horrigan, a scientific freak the Enclave cooked up. He is an enhanced Super mutant, an Ultra Mutant of sorts that is also outfitted with custom power armor. After a short battle, The Chosen One kills Frank Horrigan and escapes with the Villagers of Arroyo on the Oil Tanker.

The Brotherhood of Steel met with interior turmoil. This led to a small revolution that ended with the leaders of both the Brotherhood and the Revolutionists dead. With nobody to lead them, the Brotherhood is disbanded. Before they leave, they dismantle all of the suits of Power Armor and other advanced technologies, and lock them away in the many underground bunkers and collapse the elevator shaft to enter them. It would take a mining crew with advanced pre-war technology to get in there, and even then you would need a brotherhood Scribe to have the skill to assemble the technology again, or a friggin genius of sorts. The Enclave, with its main base destroyed, had many of its mainland bases left leaderless as well. They turned to either accepting their fates or becoming advanced cities, or to bandits.

However, a group of former Brotherhood members formed an alliance with former Enclave members, and the Guardians of the USA was born. Few know that they exist, but those that do know that they seek to pick up where the Enclave left off...

It is now the year 2283, and the Guardians of the United States have been slowly taking over cities in Washington State and have been creeping slowly south...

[WeZil]

Character outline, rules, and such like that.

First, however. Rules

Once again, PM me before you join!
No powerful characters
Nobody can have power armor. Not a single person. Former brotherhood or enclave member or not. Weapons include all modern day guns, as well as some advanced ones and some energy weapons.

The wasteland setting is your standard 50's image of what a post nuclear world would be. THe land is broken and dry. Plants are scarce, and the creatures tend to be giant. Giant Rats, Scorpions, Cockroaches, wolves, bipedal geckos and other things tend to populate the wasteland. Cows have two heads and are called Brahmin. Legends tell of one headed brahmin, but nobody believes them.

Races:
There are three races in the Fallout Universe. Humans, Ghouls, and Super Mutants. Information about each are as follows

Human: If you don't know what a human is, please step away from your computer and beat your head against the wall until you fall down.

Ghouls: Ghouls are the result of gradual inrease in radiation exposure. They look like zombies, in that their skin is green and rotting, and various pieces of them tend to fall off at times. They reak like hell and tend to be heavilly irradiated, but that doesn't effect them at all. They can live to be over 500 years old, but can never have children due to sterillity. They aren't as strong as humans, and are much slower, but they have an unusually high perception, and are smarter than usual. While their senses may surpass that of a human, their intelligence won't, but they are more likely to be more intelligent. they can't weild big guns since the kick back would likely rip an arm off, and they can't wear most human armor since the decay has caused them to become mispraportioned for them to be able to wear it.

Super Mutants: Super mutants are usually 8 feet tall and kinda look like The Hulk with a hunch. Their strength surpasses humans greatly, but their smarts? Well, lets just say that you would be hard pressed to find a super mutant that could graduate from highschool. Most of them are dumb as rocks. They are capable of above average intelligence, but that is rare. They will never be able to be as smart as humans due to brain mutations, but most of them can talk normally and can learn to read. Then there are the ones that say "Duh". With their hulking size, they can't use most small weapons. Pistols are downright out. Some rifles if the finger loop's big. Not that it is much of an issue for them since they can hold a rocket launcher in one hand and handle the kickback like it was a pistol. Most super mutants have big guns or energy rifles. They also can't wear human clothing and have to get their armor and clothes hand made. And, being 8 feet tall, they tend to frighten people, and face more hatred than the ghouls. They can live to be 200 or so years, but are also sterile.

Now for the character sheet.

Name:
Race:
Age:
Gender:
Physical Description:
Mental Description: (Personallity and such)
Bio:

[FenneShadefyre]

Name~ Danni Sturbeck
Race~ Human
Age~ 24
Gender~ Female
Physical Description~Her hair is long and white blonde in color, hanging past her shoulder blades and cut in perfectly straight lines. She stands only 5'2" in height, her greyish blue eyes are highly expressive but hide deep secrets. When the weather is warm, she wears a pair of cut off shorts, a t-shirt, a fake leather bomber jacket and a pair of combat boots that are one size too big for her. When it's cold out, she usually switches the shorts and t-shirt for ripped jeans and a ragged looking sweater.
Mental Description~ She doesn't trust many people and it takes a while for the people she travels with to earn her trust and respect. Once they have it though, they find she is a completly different person. She is more outgoing and willing to help out once she has given her respect to someone. But if someone betrays that trust, she is quick to deal out a harsh punishment.
Bio:She doesn't discuss her background very much with others. So far, all that's been pieced together by people she travelled with is that she came from a supposedly happy family that lived somewhere near the mountains. Her reasons for leaving this supposed paradise vary in each telling, from the death of her parents to the abuse that her parents dish out on a regular basis. Her reasons for not telling the truth on this matter are her own and she won't share them with anyone. She has travelled quite far across the continent with various groups, only sticking with them long enough to make some quick cash before moving on to the next town or city.

((Making me do a char sheet, for shame Wezil. I'll do my IC portion later when I'm more awake))

[WeZil]

Name: John "WeZil" Sentifeild
Race: Human
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Physical Description: John is fairly skinny, and because of this not the strongest man in the wastes, but he is still pretty strong. He stands at 5'8", his hair is brown, long, dusty, and curls in random directions, making him look somewhat dirty. His eyes are a dark hazel color, but nothing special comes of that. His face is scruffy, with short blonde hairs all along his cheeks and chin, which also makes him look dirty. He wears an old, faded grey shirt that is slightly ripped along the seams, and some black, pre-war "stainproof" pants that he found in an ancient convenience store that are in supprisingly good shape even though they are more than 200 years old. Over all of that, however, he wears an old suit of Brotherhood Issue leather armor, with the brotherhood symbol scruffed out. It's rigid, but comfortable. Won't stop a direct hit from a bullet but it'll stop many melee weapons.
Mental Description: John's key trait is his intelligence. He is extremley smart, and can prove that to anybody in the blink of an eye. Other then that, he has a very carefree personality, which is rare in the wastes. He tends to be happy without being overly optimistic about anything, which leads some to believe he isn't entirely there in the head. He likes to talk to others, and is a generally nice guy otherwise, doing favors for friends and such.
Bio: A former Brotherhood Scribe, John was raised in a militaristic society. While that doesn't fit his personality at all, it does fit his skills. He is amazing when it comes to science and repairs, being able to hack into many computers, but the problem is finding a working computer now adays.
When the brotherhood disbanded, John was one of the scribes enlisted to disassemble the suits of Power Armor. After that, he grabbed his Pip Boy (A combination of a palm pilot, GPS, and a high power computer), a bit of armor, and a couple of weapons. He doesn't like talking about his past, but will do it if he knows the person and trusts them.

((You'll do my char sheets when I tell you to, damnit))

[Damned]

Name: Lynna West
Race: Human
Age: 25
Gender: Female
Physical Description: The tone of her naturally pale skin has been deepened by years under the harsh sun, giving her a darkly tanned, weather-beaten appearance. Thick, dark shoulder length hair badly cut in disordered layers. Wears a bulky possibly-leather bike jacket, fitted black v-neck tank top, ancient denim jeans with a truly amazing amount of pockets and well-worn black combat boots. A thick silver chain hangs around her neck.
Mental Description: Solitary, overfond of gambling, gets in the occasional pit fight, would probably be an alcoholic if she had the time. She's cultivated the sort of mindset that's enabled her to survive ten years as a mercenary in post-Fallout USA- violent, occasionally paranoid, and without a highly developed set of moral values. When working in a team she's often distant at first, but loyal almost to a fault once you've earned it. Basically the sort of person you might, eventually, trust with your life. Just not with your wallet.
Bio: Drifter, thief and hired gun of no fixed address, has acquired a modest reputation and a corresponding set of enemies. Often involved in Plains gang wars. Takes on almost any job for the right price.

[FenneShadefyre]

Step after step, day to night, night to day. No thought but about putting one foot in front of the other.

Danni trudged on, her pack heavy on her shoulder since one strap was broken clean off in a fight with a ghoul for the contents within. She had killed it, but in the process, she had wasted precious ammo. But although the incident was in the recent past, she didn't give it a thought. She didn't even give the distant past a second thought.

You're still running, aren't you?

She ignored the intruding thought by putting another foot in front of the other. Maybe she was running, but if she was, it was at an awful slow pace as far as she was concerned. Lifting her eyes from the road in front of her, she looked over the debris strewn horizon. Danni wasn't sure how far the next pocket of civilization was, but she would find it or die trying.

You know you'll end up back there one day.

How she hated the mind at times, always thinking, rarely resting, even spewing back things that one doesn't want to think about. Especially when it came to past deeds that a person couldn't be very proud of. But what's done was done and there was no rewriting history. The dazzling display of dark colors in the sky informed her that night was approaching and she looked around for suitable shelter. The highway was filled with old cars parked on the side, as if everyone wanted to see the world explode as they went with it. Danni found one that was relatively intact and unlocked as the sun dipped down below the horizon. She climbed in quickly and shut the door with a slam, wincing at the annoying squeak from the rusty doorhinges. Although being out alone during the day could be dangerous, at night, it was down right deadly.

(well, I just won't use them in the next RP that you make)

[Damned]

"Pick 'em up, friends."

Some things, or so it's said, never change.

One of them is the game of poker.

"Let's kick this off. Twenty creds."

Bunker KS-5 was a pre-war relic. The delicate circuitry spanning its outer panels was faded and frail, a maze of lace bare to the hard sky, the gears of the huge metal door itself halted by time. The ancient machines of war slept now, beneath layers of steel and silicon, their computer minds slowly atrophying, their purpose a memory. No man alive could wake them, coax them to do his bidding. And there were no grand nations any more, no great armies, only countless little fragments of territory whose struggles were far smaller, if no less bitter.

"See you one and raise you one."

Right now, KS-5 was occupied by a rough-edged, vaguely military posse of vigilantes called the Blades of Glory, whose main reason for existence was- theoretically- to protect the city from the wide array of mutants which stalked its outer borders. In actual fact, most of the weapons acquired with these noble aims in mind were used to blow the living sh1t out of the Sons of the New Dawn, who occupied a similar, strategically significant bunker a few miles east, but the noise was sure as hell impressive.

"Eh, screw this. I'm out."

The area between the two bases was a hot zone, and the weapons themselves were highly desirable commodities. As well as the main opposition, a gunrunner to the Limits had to deal with smaller, no less opportunistic Plains gangs, temperamental transport, hostile terrain, worse weather, and the aforementioned mutants. In short, the process of actually getting these weapons from A to B was a difficult and dangerous task.

"Looks like we're done."

A difficult, dangerous and highly paid task.

"Read 'em."

The card room was cramped and dusty, decorated in unimaginative shades of khaki, furnished by a few squat tables and antique benches. A single bare bulb swung on a length of shielded cord from the low ceiling, but the red glow from the heating filaments provided just as much light. Got cold down here, most nights. No clouds. No insulation. A fat black parka was draped over the back of her chair, beneath her habitual jacket.

"Three sevens."

"Heh, pair of Kings."

"Straight, four to eight."

Lynna leant back in her chair, bare arms crossed, one leg folded over the other, her dark eyes resting speculatively on the lanky redhead at the end of the table. Two of the others, a raw-boned Asian woman and a blond guy with a ponytail, did likewise, while a nondescript man with a crewcut sat brooding over his mismatched hand.

Redhead paused, looked from one face to the other, and shrugged. "Three of a kind. Jacks. The lady wins."

"Way to go there, West." Heh. Looked like the blond was a sore loser. Anyway, probably time to quit while she was ahead. She'd made a slight profit this evening, another game might set her back. And she needed to get back to the city before moonrise.

"Pleasure's all mine." She raked in the modest pile of cash on the table and stretched like a cat, the barbed-wire tattoo on her left arm shifting. Her shoulder holster was visible but empty. "Gotta head home before the freaks come out to play..."

"Long ride, babe," Redhead observed, taking a swig from the bottle beside him. "Sure you don't wanna wait it out, maybe leave in the morning?"

Hn... No. Nice try. "No can do, good buddy. Life of a contract cowboy. Got biz to transact." She tossed him a smile, pulled on both the jackets but didn't zip them up. "Maybe next time." Yeah, right. Heh.

Lynna collected her weapons from one of the guards at the door, returned her Stinger to its holster and the other items to her pockets, zipped up the parka against the flat knife of wind that greeted her on the surface. She'd left it a little late, and the shadows were gathering in the corners of the sky. Better floor it, that or prep the TG for active service. Maybe both. Nah, it'd take a good fifteen minutes to set up the gear, time better spent on the road. The journey home was always easier, although she was never fully off guard. Everyone, even the ghouls knew she'd made the drop, the sunjeep was basically empty, and the chances of her coming this way again would be greater if she was still alive.

Across the desert and up the empty road, the stars burning overhead. Few lights, fewer clouds, you got some pretty goddamn amazing stars out here. Cars lined up along the sides of the broken highway like ghosts watching the sky. She thought she saw movement in one of the burnt-out shells up ahead. Maybe a transient, maybe a freak, who the hell knew... Probably not a freak, this close to the city.

She did have a little business in town tonight, had to drop off Tatsu's sunjeep and collect her deposit, plus her run fee. Meet some friends, such as they were. Thought it was about time to be leaving this place anyway. Her lifestyle was getting too predictable, too easy to track, and she was feeling the need for a change of scene...

Maybe something would come up. As always, she'd take it one day at a time.

[WeZil]

The highway he had heard of was, indeed, intact. A smile came over John's face as he walked toward it. The shells of cars lined it like it was a burial ground for the machines of old. But he wasn't here to marvel at the pre-war technology, he was here to salvage electronic parts.

He walked to the first car he saw and peeked inside. Score! The radio's intact.. He opened the door and crawled inside, pulling out a screwdriver while he did. He fit the flat head of the screwdriver under the radio and began to pry hard, ripping the radio from it's casing. It came flying out, almost hitting John in the face, but he caught it. He peaked inside, ripping through the mechanics and motors and finally coming across the circuit board.
"Great! Everything is still intact.. great!"
He pulled out a pair of snippers, tweasers, and a strange rollout case. He rolled the case out over the dashboard and began snipping out electronic parts, putting them in their appropriate slot. He came to a square part, blue in color, the numbers on the side faded.
".... A chicklet? the hell? I haven't seen one of these in a long time.. This thing must of been from the 2030's.. Damn, suprised this radio lasted long enough to see the bombs, let alone see me."
He popped the chicklet capacitor into the rollout case and continued on.
Allright, I got.. 6 capacitors, 3 of them polar, 12 resistors, 3 diodes, and 2 transistors... Type that into the pipboy and...
He popped open his pipboy and punched in a few numbers.
That makes 72 capacitors total, 48 of them polar, 143 resistors, 32 Diodes, and 10 transistors... I'd say I'm doing pretty good.
He smiled to himself, feeling proud of his salvaging, and got out of the old car. He walked on, repeating the process in a few other cars, skipping many that had already been ripped by others like him. A glorious world it was, he thought to himself, when one must salvage the machines of old to live. He chuckled to himself, joking about being all philisophical like, and then moved on.

Something stirred in a car ahead, however. It had been stripped of it's doors and wheels, probobly to make a runner car for pirates. A molerat, a giant creature, about the size of a man, crawled out of the old car, and snarled at him. It was obvious that John had stepped on this creature's territory, and was about to face the penalty. But no matter, he needed a good meal tonight anyway.
It snarled and barked at John menacingly, waiting for a chance to strike at John, but it never got that chance. John reached to his holster and pulled out his gun, a pre-war desert eagle, and shot the molerat. The gunshot rang through the clear night and echoed off in the distance. He smiled to himself, grabbed the molerat, and dragged it off into the distance with him away from the highway. He was done there anyway, and wanted to camp tonight.

He found a good place to set up camp in an old scrap yard next to the highway. He pitched his tent and started a fire. All of his camping gear was Brotherhood Issue and most of it supercompact for carrying space, but for the most part it was very high quallity equipment. A grate and stand to put over a fire for grilling, a skillet, and a small tent that had the symbol of the Brotherhood, the winged sword and gears, in white on the side. The molerat, now gutted, skinned and chopped into a steak, sizzled on the grill. He took the smell in, and enjoyed it. Sure, many people didn't like rats, but that didn't stop them from tasting damn fine. He dug up an locker, probobly from a school or something, and opened it up. He put a small fire in the bottom and hung many strips of the left over molerat meat on hooks that were in it. They'll be nice and smoked in the morning. Good for later on.
Satisfied with the fire in the locker, he shut the door and got back to enjoying his steak.

[FenneShadefyre]

Danni slept uneasily, images of the past racing through her mind now that it was vulnerable. The images had no particular order, haunted eyes, a frightened face better left forgotten, hands covered in blood and bodies laying in the sun and beginning to stiffen. The sound of a scream jerked her awake and for a moment, she was afraid again. But that moment lasted only a second before her features took on their mask of someone not to be messed with.

Waking up that quickly left her feeling disoriented and she wasn't sure where she was. It was still dark outside the abandoned car and the doors were still shut tight. The night air was cool against her skin and she pulled the fake leather bomber jacket tighter around her torso while fighting off a shiver. Although the idea of going back to sleep was a pleasant one, it was a difficult task to achieve now that she was awake. Danni leaned against the car door and looked out the window.

The scream she had awoken to had been forgotten. It was probably nothing more then some animal dying to feed another. Not far in the distance, she could see the glow of what was possibly a fire. She turned her head slightly to get a better look and by the time her eyes adjusted, it was gone, locked away from her site. Although it was cool in the car, it was still stuffy from the long period of time from being closed up. She rolled down the window, just enough to let fresh air in and still keep any hungry animals out.

Danni had dozed off once more, she wasn't sure for how long but something new had awakened her this time. Her stomach rumbled, it had been a day or two since she had eaten last and she only had a few scraps of dried meat from an animal that resembled a rather large chipmunk with three tails. What made her mouth water was the smell of meat cooking wafting in through the open window. The night outside wasn't as dark as the first time she had awoken, indicating that dawn was perhaps three hours away at most.

Picking up her pack and slinging it over her shoulder, she checked her gun to see how many bullets she had left in it. There weren't many, but if she was careful, she could probably survive locating the source of the smell, grabbing some of what she needed and head back without wasting too many of the precious ammo. The idea of getting caught didn't enter into her mind. If she did, it would be kill or be killed as far as she was concerned.

You know you're too stupid to do anything right.

Her mother's voice echoed in her mind as she opened the door, wincing at the sound of the rusty protest the door made at being forced from a position it had long held. Surely whoever was cooking the meat couldn't hear the door but Danni almost gave up right then. The glow of light she spotted earlier came from the junkyard that was roughly no more then 150 feet from where she sat. A quick run to get into the entrance as far as she was concerned. She was almost certain that it wouldn't take long to search between the heaps of junk to locate the source of the smell. With her gun in one hand and a machette in the other, she ran from the car and headed straight for the junkyard.

Luck had been on her side so far, she had only run into animals too small to be worried about and they scurried away from her quickly. She could've done the nice thing by killing what she found and leave the cooking food alone, but she was hungry now and didn't want to go through the hassle of chasing something down. As she neared the source of the food, the scent got stronger. Stepping as quietly as she could, she hid behind a rusted out schoolbus and looked over the camp. A large rat scurried out from under the bus, squeaking at her in it's rage at being disturbed before it ran off. The tent blocked most of her view so she stayed put, listening for sounds of movement in case someone was still awake.

[WeZil]

The steak was pretty tender, and very juicy. John had learned how to cook survival rations in the Brotherhood, but those weeks at the Diner provided much better lessons. Sure, this was no iguana on a stick, but it was still delicious. He got up and went to check on the rat jerky. He opened the door, and a heep of smoke came out to greet him. He coughed a bit, and his eyes watered, but he got a view of the jerky. It would be ready in a few hours, and there would be enough to last him a week.

John shut the door and went to his camp fire, poking at it and keeping warm. There was another steak there, but he wasn't hungry enough to eat it. Once again, John's overestimation of his hunger drove him to waste perfectly good jerky meat. He'd do something with it eventually, but his train of thought was interupted by a loud rat screech. He looked over to the bus, and peaked around the corner of his tent. A rat scurried away, but then he thought he saw something bigger move from behind the bus. He ducked back behind his tent and thought for a second.

Somebody's there.. At least.. I think.. What to do, what to do... I don't wanna kill somebody if I don't have to so... Flash Grenade!
He reached for his pack and dug into it, eventually pulling out an oddly shaped grenade. It wasn't an explosive grenade, but when it detonated it would create a blinding flash that would incapacitate those who look directly at it. No permanent eye damage would be done, but they'll be blind for a minute or two. He gauged the distance between him and the bus. To far for him to throw, but if he got closer he could easilly pull it off, timing it just right so it detonates right before it lands.

He pulled the pin and made a run, about halfway there he tossed the grenade over the bus, and made a diving roll to land behind the wheel, just incase his little scuttle set them off. He heard the grenade bounce off the top of the bus, and then the trademark "foom" that flash grenades make. The flash shone underneath the bus so he knew it landed right. He got up and ran around the bus, not sure if the person covered their eyes or saw the flash, but he was ready for anything. He ran around the corner of the bus and squatted down, his desert eagle out and pointing.
"Don't move!" He screamed. "Who are you? What do you want?"

[Damned]

"So they shot down Lady Fortune,
And they left her there to die,
As I drove to the lake at the end of the world,
T' see the stars fall from the sky..."

There was this constant prickle at the back of her neck, like someone was sitting in the back of the sunjeep and staring at her. Couldn't shake it. So she was singing to herself over the hum of the Solaris engine, keeping herself company. Old habit. And anything close enough to hear her voice would hear the sunjeep first.

"'Cos there's, nooo mooore heroooes,
In this slooow ooold town,
And I drove to the lake at the end of the world...

Her eyes shifted to the rear view mirror, narrowing slightly. Intuition, sixth sense, whatever you wanted to call it, it was screaming for her attention. That shadow she'd seen, back there...

"...To see the, stars fall down..."

One hand on the wheel, Lynna pulled the Stinger out from under the black parka and thumbed the charge.

"And I drove to the lake at the end of the world..."

Then something hit the side of the jeep, thunk, and she was skidding on three tyres across the fractured asphalt. Brief, vicious battle for control, lost a few seconds later as the front end of the jeep interfaced with one of the wrecks on the side of the road. Sh1t, she thought absently as her head hit the doorframe, now she was gonna lose her deposit.

Something arced down from the night sky with the hiss of air over thin leather, dark wings, blind white eyes, black razor talons reaching for her. The Stinger was on the floor between her feet and she couldn't remember letting go of it. Goddamn. She threw up her left arm to shield her face, her right slipping back into the jacket, closing around the strap of the wrist-mounted hook launcher. Better than nothing.

The mutant spat something between a hiss and a scream, claws sinking through the material of her thick coat and finding flesh, a second before she aimed the hook at its chest and snapped off the release. Flat triangle of sharp metal ripped through its skeletal frame with enough force to drive into stone, burst out on the other side and sunk into the tan plastic panelling of the sunjeep's passenger door. Claws snapped closed like the jaws of a trap and Lynna flinched, reflexively, one foot striking the accelerator as she shoved the creature's dead weight away. The back wheels spun, the crippled jeep shot forward like a bullet, nosed another shell of a vehicle out of its path and pitched itself headlong down the steep slope leading down to the junkyard.

The rather spectacular noise this generated was masked by the blast of a flash grenade from somewhere behind a heap of crushed metal. Her jeep had come to rest in the shadows, but the light still stung her dark-adjusted eyes, and the scene before her hazed an epileptic shade of shadowgreen.

The dead creature was still slumped across her in a position that implied a ghoulish degree of intimacy, pinned by the cable through its chest. Black blood leaked from the fatal wound, spilled across the lesions on her own arm. She swore, detached it, kicked it out the broken door, fumbling for the Stinger. Poison, Tayven blood was poison, they tipped knives with it back in town. Getting it out of your system hurt like hell. She needed fire, to fix the antidote. The gashes already burned around the edges.

But someone had thrown that flash grenade. Lynna hefted the Stinger in her good hand, stepped cautiously out of the wrecked sunjeep- sorry about that, Tatsu, good buddy- and almost fell flat on her ass as a heap of rubble shifted beneath her feet. So much for subtlety, maybe it was time for the direct approach.

Long as it didn't take too much time.

[FenneShadefyre]

The sound of shoes scuttling in the dirt was what she had first heard, then it sounded like something with long nails was running along the top of the bus. It wasn't until she heard the familiar fwoomp of the flash grenade going off before she knew what it really was.

I told you that you were too stupid to do this right.

Like all thoughts, she ignored it since she was a little on the busy side trying to get her sight back. Danni heard footsteps approaching and swung around in that direction, hoping to bluff her way into letting them think the flash grenade didn't work. Although she had his general direction, she wasn't sure if the gun she carried was pointed directly at him. A voice called out, asking who she was and what did she want. It was closer then she expected but before answering, she listened carefully to see how many were out there.

Somewhere else in the junkyard, Danni could hear the sound of trash shifting and it made her wonder if it was one of this guy's friends or just an animal. Still slightly blinded, she was at least able to see the outlines of things. She kept the gun pointed in the man's general direction though, even though he was just a vague shadow outlined against a heap of garbage. "Call your friend out of hiding then I'll answer your questions."

Do as the nice man says and everything will be just fine.

Her mother's answer to everything it seemed like. Just go with the flow and be happy your still alive. If Danni wanted to live like her mother, she'd still be in one of the little burgs of civilization, working the streets and infected with who knows how many diseases. That wasn't Danni's idea of good living.

[WeZil]

The flash grenade worked, he could tell. Her gun was pointing maybe five feet off target from where he was, but it wasn't long before it started coming back slightly and her aim was somewhat better. That wasn't what bothered him. What bothered him was what she said, "Call your friend out of hiding then I'll answer your questions."
He had heard the scuffling behind him, as well as the loud crashing noise, but he was sure it was just a mole rat or a deathclaw in a worst case scenario. He peeked back slightly, and also saw the shadow. The frustration of his camping being interupted built up in him more and more.
"Screw it, you know? Screw it." He said loudly. He stood up and walked around the back of the bus. He wasn't afraid of the girl, she wasn't in the best of aiming ability. He wasn't sure who was behind him but he had a feeling that person wasn't there to do any harm. He holstered his gun and walked back over to the camp. If she wanted something, she could come over here and get it. He just wanted to rest at this point.

"You know, you guys can come out. Just don't have any guns drawn and I won't have mine out." He called out eventually.

[Damned]

Heh, sure not gonna last in a gunfight...

Perhaps it was time to throw herself on the questionable mercies of her unknown companions. After a moment's thought, she tucked the Stinger back inside the jacket, reasoning that the chances of her being capped the moment she stepped out of hiding would be considerably reduced if she wasn't visibly armed.

She could smell meat, smoke and meat. Fire and food. Her stomach muttered in interest. After another moment's thought, she hefted a fat plaskin of water out of the jeep and slung it over her good shoulder. The ensuing tension through the muscles of her left arm was painful enough to make her catch her breath. Bad position to be in, really, weakened and weighed down, her right arm disabled and her left rendered slow on the draw. But out in the desert, water was worth more than gold, a simpler currency in which to pay the price of tolerance.

Or so she hoped.

"I'm alone, friends..."

Lynna stepped cautiously out of the shadow, lifting her bloodstained left hand above waist level with an effort of will. The more reassuring, the better, because she probably looked like hell right now. She was pale under her tan, her eyes dark with fatigue, a trail of blood snaking from a head wound she'd only just noticed she had, and the skin of her upper chest under her open jackets was streaked with red and black.

"West, they call me. Met a Tayven up on the highway." Christ, she needed to sit down. The strain of the slight weight from the water pack was already telling on her, and the gashes still bled freely. Some chemical sh1t in there that did that to humans, stopped the wounds from closing as fast. "It came off worse, but not before it managed to blood me. I gotta brew up some fix..."

Trying to make it look like a voluntary decision, Lynna slung the water pack to a clear place on the ground, and just managed not to go down with it.

[WeZil]

He looked over when he heard footsteps. It was another girl, this one bleeding and carying a plaskin of water.
"West, they call me. Met a Tayven up on the highway." She said. John was partially suprised at this point that she made it this far from a Tayven attack. The mutant bat things aren't exactly easy to stop from killing you, even after they die.

"It came off worse, but not before it managed to blood me. I gotta brew up some fix..." She dropped the plaskin, and didn't look like she could stand for much longer. He walked up to her and propper her arm over his sholder and then walked her over to his tent. When he got inside he had her lie down on his sleeping bag.
"Wait here for a second, I'm gonna try and get some first aid going."
He dug around in his bag for a bit until he pulled out a red thing with a vial attatched at one end and a needle at the other. It was a stim pak, miracle of pre-war medical technology. Shoot yourself up with one of these and it'll stimulate an extremly rapid regrowth in your body, causing small wounds to heal almost instantly, larger wounds would start to close up. Larger packs would have a kickback effect after an hour or two that would hurt, but not too badly. This one was small, no kick back. He walked up to the girl again and uncovered her arm.
"This is gonna hurt a bit buuut."
He plunged the stimpack's needle into her arm, injected and pulled out. The needle wound closed up quickly, and the rest of them began to. Many closed up, some didn't make it all the way. He was just trying to keep her around longer. He dug around in his backpack again, digging digging until he came across a bottle with a murky white substance in it. He smiled. He put it next to the girl's head, and talked to her then.
"I need you to drink that, you know. It's the antidote to Tayven venom that I brought along just incase I was attacked."
He went out to the fire again. He wasn't a medical kind of guy, but he knew how to use Stimpacks and Antidotes.

[Sirus Sterling]

Name: Draven

Race: Human

Age: 22

Gender: Male

Physical Description: Well built from the rituals of his tribe. Which included countless hours of work, exercise, and running. His body was tanned and tone, medium build and cut well from the rigors of the wastes. His skin was weathered from the sun and wind, hair was black and a tangled mess not quite matted though. His eyes were odd they seemed to be like fire opals always catching a glimmer of light and fading from color to color. His features were square and firm, attractive only to few. His body was adorned in many tribal tattoo's mainly of a holy symbol with an egale atop a globe and an anchor through the globe, bull dogs, a holy knife called the K-Bar and black lettering ... U.S.M.C.

Mental Description: Disciplined that would be the best word, a leader when he is needed to be and a follower when other more knowldegable lead. He has a strong will matched by few and a drive to be the best at all he does. He trains constantly from one of his many holy books and searches for remenants of the old world that might have something about Marines.

Bio:His Tribe calls themselves the leatherneck tribe and live in the wastes to the South West of the great moutains a few miles from the dead oceans. The legenad of the founder or his commandant is unknown but some say he was a reble form the Enclave and all that is known is that he was what the old world used to call a Marine. When he founded the tribe he set up a strict law of discipline, senior and junior and the ablitiy to rise up with skill and good conduct. Draven was born into this life and took well to it becoming the towns greatest hunter and explorer and now he has been charged with a mission. Go to the wastes and find out more about the old world and its Marines. He has been given all the tribe had. The Holy K-bar knife and all the books five total the founders gear which consists of MArPAc digital patteren utlities, and an LBV with pack, a 9mm bertta and an M-49 S.A.W machine gun, belts of ammo, canteens, and survival gear. Blessed with the founders gear and the shaman or "Doc's" blessing Draven headed into the wastes.

[Damned]

She couldn't hold back a smile once he'd left, staring at a fraying seam on the roof of the tent, just concentrating on breathing in, out, in... Heh, she'd only asked for a fire to boil the water on, not a friggin' paramedic. Not that she wasn't grateful. But under normal circumstances, if an utterly unknown man she'd met in a junkyard had attempted to lead Lynna West into a tent and shoot a vial of some unknown substance into her bloodstream, he'd be rolling on the ground faster than you could say 'fractured kneecap'.

However, perhaps fortunately for all concerned, these were not normal circumstances.

The sensation of her flesh knitting together in fast-forward had been one of the weirdest things she'd ever experienced. Wonder where he got his gear from, if he had more of those stashed away. Probably did, or else he wouldn't have been so quick to use it on her. Unless there were side effects she didn't know about...

Should have just stayed in cover.

Yeah, and passed out just in time to be eaten by a giant squirrel. Good idea.

But the stim shot alone wasn't going to fix her, regardless of whether the wounds closed or not. Her hand closed around the bottle above her head. Back when she'd run with the Desert Flames, she'd seen a Council guy repeatedly shot up with a carefully balanced blend of Tayven venom and its liquid cure, to try and bring him round to their point of view. Did him no lasting harm whatsoever, not physically, anyway. The stuff just burned itself out, didn't leave a trace. It was the process that hurt.

What the hell. If this wasn't the antidote, she'd be dead in about four hours. He'd been well prepared, she reflected as she took a cautious swig. She should carry a batch pre-made.

Lynna settled back slightly on the sleeping bag, shrugging off the heavy black parka. Three short tears in the leather of the coat she wore below. Damn, she really liked this jacket. She rested her right hand over the Stinger, careful to keep her fingers clear of the trigger, and stuffed a fistful of parka into her left. And waited.

[FenneShadefyre]

Danni waited before following the other two back to the guy's camp. It wasn't because she didn't trust them, well, she didn't, but she also wanted to be able to see better before walking into a stranger's camp. Once she was able to see more then just basic shapes, she followed them in and waited as the faceless man gave the faceless woman some kind of shot in the tent. For a little while, she would have to deal with seeing a black spot over whatever she looked directly at. It had been similar to looking directly at the sun then trying to look at people.

She sat down and pulled her pack off her shoulder, digging around inside it for the remains of her dried giant squirrel meat. The meat was tough and not exactly what she wanted but figured it was better then nothing. As he came out of the tent, she glanced over in his direction, now able to see most of his face except for a few black spots here and there. "Did you really need to use a flash gren? Coulda bluffed your way back there." Danni bit into the dried meat from her pack after dusting some lint off it.

[WeZil]

"Would you have rather me used a frag grenade? And did you really need to sneak up on my camp with a shotgun?"
He got up and walked to the meat locker. He opened it and smiled after coughing a bit from the puff of smoke. The meat was completly done. He walked back to his backpack and got a large brahmin hide bag. He tipped out upside down, sending little crumbs and bits of foodstuffs out of it, along with some smaller bugs. After beating the bag to make sure everything is out he walked over to the locker again and started loading the jerky into the bag. He looked back to the campfire, the other steak was still there.
"If you want that steak, you're welcome to have it. I've had my fill of food tonight." He said to the girl.
"But first, I must ask again. Who are you?"
He walked back to his backpack and put the now full bag of jerky into the bag.

[FenneShadefyre]

"The name's Danni. You were lucky I wasn't one of them blind muties or you'd probably be fighting for your life right now." She reached over and took the steak from the campfire, using the machette to cut it in half. She set half of it back in the fire for the woman in the tent in case she was hungry as well. "Saw your campfire from the highway and came over to investigate. Never thought people were stupid enough to sleep in the outdoors anymore. So who are you anyways?" She started to eat the half a steak while waiting for him to answer, glancing at the tent once in a while to see if the woman would come out okay or not.

[WeZil]

"You weren't a blind mutie, because if you were, you wouldn't be peeking at me. you'd stay hidden and just hear me out."
He finished packing away the stuff he had taken out, and then pulled out a bizarre looking pistol and a few tools.
"And people sleep in camps outside all the time. The wastes aren't crawling with muties, you know. They appear every once in a while, but they aren't all over the place. Not enough living out here for there to be anything to concider the wasteland crawling with them, let alone muties. Besides, fire scares most of them."
He got out a screw driver and took off a few screws and then removed the case, revealing the guts of the strange device.
"As for me, my name is John Sentifeild, former scribe for the Brotherhood of Steel if you haven't noticed from the symbol on the side of my tent, but you can call me WeZil if you want, it's what they used to call me."
He removed a small lense from the strange gun, holding it up to the fire light and looking at it.
"Nothing wrong with that..."
He put the lense back into it's place and then popped out a small tube shaped object. It was cracked down the middle. He frowned, and reached into the tool box pulling out another small tube shaped object, only this one wasn't cracked. He fit the new one into place and fiddled with a few tiny screws with a small screw driver. He popped the case back on, put the screws back in and set it down.
"Anyway, I just walk around a bunch and fix the fixable things I find. Like that thing right there."
He reached into his bag and pulled out a strange looking battery which he placed into the pistol like a clip. He looked out into the scrapyard and spotted a small (small for the wastes that is) rat and pointed the gun at it. He pulled the trigger and a burst of red energy shot out, striking the rat and sending it tumbling and smoking.
"Beut, innit? It's a Wattz 1000 civilian model laser pistol. The laser mechanism on the inside was cracked, and I had found one earlier in a casing that was lost beyond hope."
He took the battery out and put them both in his backpack.
"You'd be amazed what you can find out here.. if you know where to look."

[Sirus Sterling]

Heat was dry, at least here in the middle of the desert on a caravan trail, which he had not seen one caravan. Draven mentally chalked that one to his luck and figured sooner or later one would have to come by. His pack was light, weight distributed by the L.B.V (Load Beaing Vest A.K.A Tac Vest) within the pack he had a few days good suplies left, a weeks if he streched them. Three bundles of food were in three outer pockets of the pack, ranging from a packed mud looking cake about the size of a plate, his tribe called them tack... it tasted like sale bread, some rat, iguana, and geko meat, and some vara fruit from his village. Also straped to the side was a red lense flashlight, battries dead, and a radio that never seemed to work, every now and then though, if he harged the solar battery enough he heard voices. Inside he carried rope, what he called a corpsmen kit (first aid), tools to clean his rifle, along with a multi-tool and two extra bandoliers of ammuntion for the SAW. At his waist were two canteens one was about half full, and his 9mm beretta, two clips for it where in horozontial pockest along his chest. Two bandoliers of 5.56 ammo hung in an "X" patteren across his chest and the other 180 rounds of a 200 round belt hung out of the reciver and across his forearm, this was every round his tribe had to spare and all he had. Under the rounds and L.B.V he wore no shirt, and let the sun bake his tanned, rough , tattoed skin. His utilty trousers were worn and dusty making them work into the desert color even better and his tan desert boots kicked sand and cracked and dried mud behind him with every step.

Draven had known about a town along this route, or at least he thought he had. As he walked he made mental notes of this location and stopped now and hen to scribe out a map.

Soon off in the distant area ahead of him he saw, tents, maybe makeshift scrape houses No way draven could tell from here. He made a mental note to look for some sort of binoculars or something to that effect. He turned and headed towards this place. No doubt whom ever was there had kept a watch ou and would see the lone wanderer from the leatherneck tribe soon.

As he came upon the place his weapon was at what his holy manual called low ready, muzzle to the deck but rounds chambered safty off ready to go if need be, and the great thing about this SAW was it was a small enough machine gun to work in C.Q.B. (Close Quarter Battle). Now he scanned the area he was clos enough to take any cover he would need by a strange rock formation jutting up from a small ditch, maybe once for irragation, bside him.

"Hello?" He shouted out, "N'body here?" Draven was always a bit brazen just calling out his presence but the last known radier settelment this size was three days travel back, so he hoped this would be a friendlier place. He steped forward slowly, and searched for anybody aorund.

[Bjarke]

Name: Jen (Short for Jason)

Race: Ghoul

Age: about 130 years

Gender: Male

Physical Description: About 5'8" leathery skin, something hanging about, but pretty good looking (for a ghoul). He has a small tree growing outta his head, which somehow aids him against disease, and such. Since he's been exposed to a lot of radiation in his years, he have become immune to the effects of radiation, infact being near radiation makes him heal slowly.

Abilities: Fairly good with rifles, and some melee weapons. He have come to know quite some marksman skill in the time he has spent in the wild, and as for survival, he is the man... He is kinda average, when it comes to anything else, but he has got his weak spots.

Mental Description: Friendly, but slightly confused, always making fun outta things. He can still take things very seriously, but he can shift from serious, to ironic/sarcastic/funny, at any time.

Bio: since he was born by a couple, who didn't get into any vault, he have been living on the surface. Unfortunately, during a neuclear attack made some far away from his village, over time the people changed drastically from the radiation. Some died, other became something else: Ghouls. Jen too... He didn't think much of it though, he just saw it as a natural change, because his life only had been within the village... Then some day, after a lot of time living with radiation, radscorpions, and other creatures of the wastes. People came, and sought for the death of the ghouls of his home village. Jen himself escaped, stole a sniper from some truck, and a 9mm, with some jhp ammo. He barely escaped alive, and sought to travel the wastes, looking for a place to stay. While travelling, he learned how to survive, and honed the skills he needed. He made himself a decent sharpened spear, which he uses to hunt. The sniper he have kept, but he is running out of ammo for both his 9 mil, and his rifle, so he saves a lot on it. He have been a loner for a while, and he doesn't really seem to enjoy being alone.

[FenneShadefyre]

Danni looked around at the sound of a male voice calling out, glancing first at Wezil in case it was one of the friends she suspected he had hiding around the junk yard. Her hand went to the gun she carried as she waited for the man to come out from hiding. She would only use it if the man posed a threat to her and maybe if he threatened the chick in the tent.

Danni kept her eyes in the direction the voice came from, waiting for the man to be revealed. She assumed it was a man, it could've been a woman with a really deep voice. She rose slowly from the ground, the half of a steak forgotten now as it landed on the ground with a soft plopping sound. What was going to step out from hiding, death or a possible friend?

[Bjarke]

Jen lay on a cliff, looking through the looking glass in his sniper. He looked down on a couple of humans talking. One of them had camped there, and the other had stumbled across him. He had the safety on, because he didn't want to shoot, only make sure they wouldn't kill him if he approached them.

As he watched, another person appeared, a male. He watched, as the events unfolded.

[Sirus Sterling]

Draven planted his foot and thumbed the saftey of the S.A.W off. The weapon was low on his hip, not a good firing postion, unless your Rambo, and he kept the muzzle down, also known has low ready. He thought for the briefest of seconds on what to do. He had heard something move, someone possible. Only then did he raise the buttstock and settled it into his shoulder.

His foot planted he rolled out standing, the stone and metal of the junkyard gave him a small amount of cover, the S.A.W was in his shoulder but the muzzle was still pointed down to the dirt in a saftey mesure. A lesson he learned from the Holy 0331 (Machine gunner's guide book) he looked over the area quickly, and asesed bases of fire, kill zones, and cover, all in an instant, aquiring the only target within his line of sight though he kept the weapon at thelow ready.

"Hello,..." He said going out on a limb "... I am Draven of the Leatherneck tribe to the NorthWest. I'm not attacking only exploring."

He paused for a moment and assed his situation again, tents, half laiden structures, could be back up in there... but they had not fired yet.

"Where have I come upon? I had not known this place to exsist at all."

[WeZil]

The two sat there, and eventually a voice called out. The girl looked to John, and then back to the source of the voice, and yet another person came out, this one a well armed tribal.

"Hello,..." He said going out on a limb "... I am Draven of the Leatherneck tribe to the NorthWest. I'm not attacking only exploring."

Leahter neck.. John thought for a second, I haven't heard that name since the History lessons on the education consoles back in the Brotherhood..

"Where have I come upon? I had not known this place to exsist at all."

John stood up, and walked slowly to the tribal man, not knowing what to expect. They had a reputation of being brutish and canabalistic at times, but John knew better than to assume they all were.

"This," He said firmly, "Is a scrap yard from before the war. Nothing in particular here. Just a bunch of metal."
John started heading back to the tent.
"Come on, you don't seem all that bad. You can hang out with us for a while, just tell me one thing. Where did your tribe get the name Leatherneck, anyway?"

[Sirus Sterling]

Draven lowered the S.A.W slowly whent he man spoke. There where not many poeple out here and when they came in contact with others... most of the time they didn't kill strangers, right away.

After the holy machine gun was slung along his shoulder he followed the man looking about this place with a watchful eye of both observeance and curosity.

"Never seen a scrape yard before, seems like a good name for a place like this."

Draven was surprised when he was asked about his origins. People out here sometimes didnt care for knowldege only what they needed to survive, and knowledge was a major factor of the Leathernecks.

"The great founder, our Commandant as we called him was a man named Fuller. Acient text speaks of him being from the dread Enclave. Now he was a part of the old world military, the Marines a tough lot by what our books say, won many battles. He did not agree with the Enclave's ways so when his platton came in for a scout into the wastes he left them and began our tribe. We followed his tradtions, of the Corps as he called up, we ran and did something called PT everyday at his order we worked hard all day and celebrated all night and selpt when we could. There were leaders and hey charged others with tasks and we had a strict chain of discipline. We trained hard when we reached the age of 72 seasons (18) learned combat from those above us and the holy manuals. Tactics teamwork and survival were also big.

He went on explaining minor details as the walked along and soon he stopped and finished his story.

"And now I was sent by our new Commandant to search for any relics of the old world Marines.

[Bjarke]

Jen lay still on the top of the cliff, looking at the three people down in the junk yard. He saw, that the newcomer wasn't killed on sight, and began to think that he might be able to go down there without the option of being shot. He put the rifle over his back, and stood up. He looked around slightly, and took his backpack, which he had made himself, on his back. It was quite a heavy load, but it was made, so he could loosen the straps quickly, and get it off if needed be. He looked down at them again. They were less than a mile away from him, so he decided to walk down.

Still being cautious he didn't rush. He walked in a normal speed, still thinking about how he should tackle the meet with them, hoping they weren't ghoul haters. He knew however how to deal with trouble, so Jen wasn't afraid.

He approached the junkyard, seeing the two men, and a woman standing there, not very far away. Jen took a deep breath, and exhaled.

"Hey there. I was watching you some distance away, and I wondered if you might need help from a wanderer like me?" Jen said in a normal, but ruddy voice

ooc: Hope you reply to this quickly, because I'm going away for about 8 days this Sunday. If you don't reply in time, then ignore what Jen said, and we'll say he haven't reached you yet. If you make your way away from there, Jen will most probably follow you, to try and join up with you later.

[WeZil]

He listened to the story of the Tribal, not at all suprised that there would be a military based religion about.
"Maybe you should tag along with me. I am a former member of the Brotherhood of Steel, an organization that was founded by former military personel that defected before the bombs fell."
He pulled out his Pip Boy and, after clicking a few times, revealed a highly detailed map of the west coast of America.
"There are a few military bases that are in inconvenient areas that few would explore, so there is a chance that there would be stuff in the rubble there."
He closed down the Pip boy and put it back on his side.
"If you are interested, we can go there together. I'm sure I could find things that I would find useful, and you can get your Relics."
He waited for a reply for a few seconds, but that was interupted as a call went out. It wasn't exactly a very pretty voice, but it suited it's owner. He looked over and saw a ghoul decending upon him. John had nothing against ghouls, to him, they were just other people, only radioactive. As long as the ghouls didn't attack him, he would have no problem.
"That depends," he shouted back to the ghoul. "What can you do that would be deemed useful?"

[Sirus Sterling]

He turned slowly and faced the ghoul as the conversation broke. He didn't move the barrle of the weapon up, but his hand was around the pistol grip, finger straight. not on the trigger... yet. Draven had a few run in with ghouls before, maybe it was just the last group in the burnt out mining town, but it looked like people used to live there when he first came there, and only two days later every person was gone and ghouls lived there... he thought he had put two and two together.

"I take it you don't know that one?"

Draven nodded to the ghouls location keeping an eye on him finding a large black round object in the corner of his eye that he could take cover behind if needed, as always he was anilizing he situation.

[Bjarke]

Jen looked at the three, and smiled politely.
"I am a survivour of the wastes, I have been travelling for some months now, and I have learned a lot. I however am also in need of someone to group up with, because the weaponary I have is running low on ammunition. I can be useful to you when it comes to survival, and killing at range." Jen pointed to the sniper on his back beneath his pack. He leaned against his spear, resting because he had the oppotunity to do so.
"I mean you no harm, and I'm only seeking your company, because it is getting rather annoying to travel alone, and to be low on ammo."

[WeZil]

"Allright, come on down. We could use somebody if we came across someplace that's still highly radioactive," John yelled. He was still sitting, sifting through the information on the pip boy trying to find a good place to start looking for stuff, as he did so he talked to the tribal.
"The poor guy. You gotta feel sorry for the ghouls, you know? Although I heard that somewhere there was somebody trying to find a way to restore them. Though, i heard that the guy was also a talking rat so it might just be a rumor."
He clicked a few times on his pip boy and then smiled.
"Ah, here we go. There's a millitary base just north east of here. I'm sure that we can find all sorts of things there for you to collect, and ammo for everybody to enjoy."
He popped the pip boy into a side pocket and then poked at the fire a few times.
"Nights still young, i suggest we sleep or we'll never make it there."

[Bjarke]

Jen nodded
"Thank you friend. I'm Jason, but call me Jen. I'm just your average traveling, friendly ghoul." Jen looked around, and nodded to himself.
"If you don't mind, then I can take care of the camp. It shouldn't be too tough to make these surroundings safe"
Jen took his bag off his back, laying both it, and the sniper on the ground, waiting for any of the three to reply.

[Sirus Sterling]

Draven was reliveded that the situation had turned out friendly, normally he was not so much so but under heavy fire Draven could be the nicest human being alive. He poped the bipod legs on the S.A.W. out and set it down and began to remove his gear, pack and L.B.V. first quickly checking that all was in order... he found some left overs, of a MRE, rats, and some reptile that was half good but decided to wait till morning to eat. He sealed al of this up and then began to take the few bandoliers of amo he had left from his shoulder. He took his boots off and set them by the fire to dry out along wit hisi gloves, sweat had soaked both, then he unloaded his weapon, after the loaded berreta was in his lap and began to field clean it and stayed quietly going about his work.