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The chapel sat amidst a plateau of twisted trees and cracked soil. A small clump of headstones were dotted about outside it, surrounded by the rickety remains of a white picket fence. The chapel itself was in poor condition, with gaping hole smashed straight through its crumbling shingle roof, and the windows all broken and shattered. 

[i]Its remarkable the fucking things still standing[/i] Hestia thought to herself as she huffed and heaved her way up the pathway to the chapel, which had been partially enveloped by the irradiated ground around it. Her Brahmin trundled along behind her, considerably less out-of-breath and sweaty than its owner. 

A dark-skinned corpse, clad in motley green armour, lay face down in the mud, and Hestia carefully stepped over it as she made her way inside the building, tying her Brahmin to a great grey treat which stood sentinel next to the chapel. 

[i]”This is Three Daaaaaaaawg, and you’re listening to Galaxy News Radio!”[/i] a sudden burst of sound made Hestia jump out of her skin. She spun straight around, only to be greeted by a quaint little radio which was propped up on an old stool. 

She laughed awkwardly to herself, breathing a slight sigh of relief, before plopping down against a wall as she puffed and panted in exhaustion. 

[i] “How’re you handlin’ things out there in our very own Capital Graveyard, boys and girls? Life sure is fucking swell!” [/i] the radio bleeped. 

Hestia regained enough strength to stuff her face with snack cakes, liking icing and pastry up off of her plump lips. 

[i] “Did you kids see the lightshow down at Rivet City?! A little birdy told me some suits and ties came sneaking into everybody’s favourite Aircraft Carrier a while back, and that all that crazy blue electricity was some sort of weapon those shady creeps were using against the Enclave. I don’t know what’s going on with these guys who’ve just rolled up in Post-Apocalyptia, but if they’re stickin’ it to our authoritarian lords and masters then they get the thumbs up from old Three Dog!” [/i] 

After her bottomless pit of a stomach was reasonably satisfied, Hestia went wadding out to her Brahmin, collecting a sleeping mat and covers, as well as a box of supplies to get her through the night, before setting up her own little shelter inside the chapel.  All the while, the man on the radio kept nattering on. 

[i]“So what else has been going on in the DC Hellhole? We’ve had a sudden influx of life over at Paradise Falls, and that son-of-a-bitch Eulogy Jones seems to be expanding further and further out into the wastes. Hasn’t he caused us all enough pain and suffering?! Between the Enclave, raiders, slavers, and what’s left of the Super Mutants, roads out in the wilderness just aren’t safe, so make sure you only go trekking through the Graveyard if it’s absolutely essential. These are dark times children, so have some advice, courtesy of your all powerful lord and master; find a settlement, set up shop, and stay there. The best bet you busy little bees have is to tie yourself to a group of like-minded wanderers, and hope things turn out better than they are right now. 

It’s a grim world out there, boys and girls, and when have I ever been one to hide the truth from my loyal disciples? 

Until next time, this has been Three Dog, and you’re listening to Galaxy News Radio; your guiding light in the radiation!” [/i]