Andronicus23

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

OOC: Did a roll for this. Corrine passed with a 6.

Rose - On the Docks

"Listen. I know he was yer partner and things didn't go so great for y'all on the island. Why don't we all -- " she made a point of making eye contact with Longfellow, and Steve once more -- "head back up to the Plank, have ourselves another drink, and you can tell us about this 'Institute' and what makes it so bad. Leave the doc here to do what he needs to do for yer friend."

The paranoid agent's face softened as she heard Corrine speak her offer. In normal circumstances, she didn't fancy letting her guard down in front of strangers, but there was something oddly comforting about the harborwoman that made her trust her. Although as alone as she now was on this island, she didn't really have any other choice.

"Fine," She said, with a weary sigh. She gave a stern look towards Doc Teddy and held up a finger, "You take care of him. Understand me? He's not some dog you bury out back. He's family."

Teddy gave an understanding nod, "I'll make sure he's given proper respect."

Satisfied with that, Rose turned and walked back up the dock with the rest of the group, and made her way to The Last Plank. She found the first empty booth she saw and sat down. Her hands were shaking as she laid them on the table, and she seemed frustrated with herself because of this.

"I don't know for certain," She began slowly, once she'd calmed down, "But I don't think Bishop was killed on coincidence. And I don't think the cultists did it either...it doesn't make sense. We were up in that observatory for nearly two days and they could have finished us off whenever they wanted....but they didn't. And they even let us walk down the mountain with Corrine and that Enclave bastard."

"It has to be The Institute," She said, shaking her head and clasping her hands together, partly in fear, "It has to be them. They're still looking for me..."

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Dr. Arthur West, Arriving Into Salem

The walking had become unbearable, and Arthur had stopped to rest at a lonely rock alongside the broken highway leading up to Salem. The heat of the wasteland sun was beating down, and his hazmat suit was not keeping him cool whatsoever. Gently, he removed the helmet and breathed heavily as he tried to cool off,

"Damn the sun," He muttered to himself, as he wiped off his glasses which had become fogged up and laced with sweat. Now more than ever, he was missing the perfectly climate controlled environment of his home. Of The Institute. He missed his favorite little spot in the Bioscience atrium, where he would just sit and read for hours on end. Sometimes he'd wait until quiet hours began, and the artificial sunlights dimmed and the stars would come out, twinkling on the domed ceiling above him.

Arthur closed his eyes and tried to picture it. He could see it as clear as if it was yesterday. When he opened his eyes however, instead of being back home, he was still in the blasted hellscape that he'd entered of his own free will. And his home was a radioactive crater in The Charles.

His fists clenched for a moment in rage. Rage at the savage that had destroyed it all and sent his people to scavenge in a half-finished underground Vault. His grip quickly lessened however, when he reminded himself of just why such a fate had befallen them. And his own hand in it. Perhaps that was part of the reason he'd left Vault 88. It was difficult for him to face his colleagues knowing that his own actions had caused this whole mess to begin with.

"I did what I was told to do," He whispered quietly, "The lab wasn't my responsibility. I was just a researcher."

Arthur knew that wasn't true though. He remembered how much he'd initially enjoyed working for the program. How he and Dr. Virgil both had excited themselves with the possibilities of what they were doing. The FEV had seemed like such limitless potential, and they told themselves that, indeed, it would be a crime not to continue developing something so scientifically important.

He sighed, and placed the hazmat helmet back on his head, before getting up to continue walking onward. As the ruins of the town approached, he popped a fresh microfusion cell into his pistol and examined it briefly. He'd gotten the pistol after successfully requisitioning it for personal defense once the regulations had been lessened. That had been when SRB had determined the volatility of things above ground might require such measures. He never thought he'd actually need to use it however. Now, it was literally the only thing keeping him from certain death in this terrifying place.

With his pistol ready, he entered the town slowly and cautiously.

It seemed surprisingly quiet enough. He spotted the occasional wastelander here and there, seemingly new arrivals coming into the town just like him. They certainly didn't seem hostile and Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. He was tired of having run-ins with raiders. Which usually ended with him running as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

He made his way over to the church, as it seemed like a good place to start and he made his way up to the second floor of the building, finding a small rectory office there, which had probably served as the tiny living quarters for the pastor of this church back before the war. Happy to have someplace to rest for a bit, Arthur began unpacking his things and setting up shop. He also changed out of the dirty hazmat suit he'd been wearing and put on the clean Vault-Tec labcoat that had come from a locker in Vault 88.

Arthur didn't know how long he'd been staying here but he figured it was at least be a few days. Enough time to rest and resupply, speak to the locals, and assist with any of the settlement's immediate medical needs. He figured he might as well make himself at home for the time being though.

His satchel had a number of odds and ends in it. Mostly medical equipment and surgical effects, but also his personal items. A few books he'd managed to salvage from his quarters, a journal he'd been trying to keep, and most importantly, a few seeds taken from Institute Bioscience. Which he was saving for the right time. These he all unpacked and place neatly in the rectory room.

Finally, he unpacked the last nutritional packet he had. The Institute seal was still boldly printed on the outside of the box, and he ran it over with his fingers. He'd been saving this last one as long as he could. Surface food was downright awful, but he stomached it when it could and rationed out his nutritional packets as much as possible. He hadn't eaten anything for nearly a day and a half now though, so he gently broke the seal on the box and examined its contents. Rows of various colored pills were laid out neatly within it, and Arthur selected one of them with a tiny number 77 print on it. He plucked the supplement from the box and popped it into his mouth. He savored the rush of flavor it brought on and remembered better times. He felt much more energized now as well.

Arthur closed the box back up and hid it away back deep within his satchel. The box was risky to keep around, but for some odd reason he couldn't bring himself to toss it, even if it was the obviously sensible thing to do.

Now that he was feeling better, he made his way back down to the lower level of the church and talked to the man who look to be directing people to different parts of town. The man said his name was Barney and said he was part of the "Salem Milita" whatever that was.

"My name is Dr. Arthur West," He said, introducing himself to the man, "If anyone needs medical attention, would you direct them to the second floor of the church? I'll be setting up a little clinic there for a few days while I rest here."

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Arthur West

Name: Dr. Arthur West

Age: 36

Race: Caucasian

Sex: M

Skills: Medicine and Botany/Hydroponics. Formally educated in The Institute so has a wide breadth of knowledge for various Bioscience topics (chemistry, genetics etc.)

Personality: Generally reserved and not too keen on getting close to people. Mostly because he’s afraid they’ll discover his past and associations. He is generally friendly and polite however, and usually very willing to help. Like many in The Institute he’s very analytical and also maladjusted when it comes to wasteland living.

Weapons & armor/clothing: Has a well-worn hazmat suit that he uses to traverse the wasteland. Normally however, he can usually be found wearing a Vault-Tec doctor’s lab coat taken from Vault 88. He also wears a pair of eyeglasses, which he is virtually blind without.

For self defense, he carries around an Institute laser pistol, which he claims he scavenged off a destroyed synth, but was in fact his own personal firearm while he lived in The Institute. Which he never needed to use until recently.

(Previous) Occupation(s): Institute Bioscientist

Faction (Minutemen, Institute, BOS, Railroad, None. Etc): The Institute. Occasionally, he still sends and receives coded radio messages to friends, family, and colleagues in Vault 88. But only rarely, given the considerable risk involved for both parties.

Backstory: Arthur was born and raised in The Institute and like most there, never saw the surface, having spent his whole life within its sealed environment. As a child, he was raised on the notion that the surface was a horrifying place: a nightmare realm full of mutated monsters and savage raiders. An idea which stuck with him well into adulthood.

After receiving his doctorate, he entered The Institute’s Bioscience division where he served as a medical assistant for some time before jumping from project to project in various research roles. Eventually however, he was pulled into a top secret classified project within Bioscience after having been highly recommended by his superiors. He started work in the FEV Lab immediately.

Arthur was a part of the FEV Program for years, working very closely with his good friend and colleague Dr. Brian Virgil, and for years he experimented on wasteland test subjects. Injecting them with the modified variants of the Forced Evolutionary Virus and analyzing the results. Subjects that successfully transformed would typically be tagged and released back out into the wasteland. Those that did not, were terminated on the spot.

For years, Arthur never questioned his work. Many of the test subjects that were brought in were raiders, mercenaries, brutes, junkies, and savages. People who behaved as less than animals. All of these served to confirm his beliefs that the surface was a brutal, monstrous place. Experimenting on them for the betterment of science and even releasing them back to the surface, therefore, made perfect sense. After all, monsters belong where monsters live.

Every so often however, an individual would be brought in which didn’t meet this profile. They were scared, no petrified even, of him. And they certainly didn’t look like brutish savages. But they too would be used and then disposed. He initially justified this with his belief that even if rare exceptions occurred, the surface was still a terrible place where the weak would eventually be killed, tortured, or eaten. If anything, turning them would help them to survive in the brutal animalistic world they had to live in. And once they were turned, there was no going back anyway. And monsters belong where monsters live.

As the frequency of these ‘exceptions’ continued without noticeable change however, his doubts soon began to gnaw at him. They grew constantly, until it became an ulcer in his life. Eventually he couldn’t take it anymore and confided in his colleague, Dr. Virgil, that he was having doubts about the program and his role in it. Far from giving him the solace and reassurance he wanted however, Virgil told him that his feelings were the same and that he felt the project was both useless and deeply wrong. Together, they penned a formal letter of protest to The Director and requested the project be shut down, but it was summarily rejected.

Unsure of what to do next, and unwilling to continue their work, Virgil proposed a radical idea to Arthur. Sabotage. He made his intentions known that he planned to destroy the lab and escape The Institute if he had to, and he asked his friend to join him, knowing full well it might mean both of their deaths, but convinced that it had to be done. Arthur was shocked and terrified of the idea of leaving The Institute to live up top. Despite his misgivings about the project, he was still mortally fearful of anything above ground, and nightmares he’d had as a child about horrible things crawling around in the world above him crept back into his memory.

Arthur asked Virgil to give him a night to think about it, and they both agreed to discuss it the next morning. As Arthur lay awake in his bed however, his fear grew. Fear of being exiled and fear of what awaited him on the surface. His cowardice got the better of him, and he broke down. In the middle of the night, he reported Virgil to the SRB.

While Arthur waited in his apartment quietly, Coursers stormed Virgil’s residence. They did not find him there. A second group had moved to secure the FEV Lab, and there Dr. Virgil was found, alone, at the lab. Arthur never fully learned what transpired there that night. But from what he understood, Virgil had been up making preparations for their departure, in anticipation of his friend agreeing to join him. The lab had apparently been completely destroyed and rendered useless in the scuffle. He never saw Dr. Virgil again.

Guilt ridden at what he’d done. Both to his friend and in his work on the FEV project, Arthur requested medical leave from The Directorate, which he was granted under the circumstances. The ensuing days became a blur for him. And when The Institute was destroyed by an act of an outsider, The Director’s own father it seemed, Arthur made little protest or show of grief. Unlike most of his colleagues, he understood the reasons why this had happened.

When The Institute relocated to Vault 88, alive but resource strapped, and began the process of rebuilding. Arthur stayed for only a short while, before gathering what material possessions he owned, saying his goodbyes, and leaving. He journeyed out into the wasteland, fully expecting to die. But he knew he had to do it. After all, monsters belong where monsters live.

By some twist of fate though, he did not die. Instead he began roving from settlement to settlement and plying his services as a wandering physician, only asking for food, water, or a bed in return. In more than one instance, he had rather close encounters with the mutated monsters he’d helped to unleash. His own terrible creations. And in a few horrifying moments, he thought he recognized some of them.

Now Arthur’s wanderings have led him north to Salem. The quiet ruins of the seaside town has attracted his attention and hope that perhaps he can find a measure of peace here. Although he rather doubts it.

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

My sheet:

Arthur West

Name: Dr. Arthur West

Age: 36

Race: Caucasian

Sex: M

Skills: Medicine and Botany/Hydroponics. Formally educated in The Institute so has a wide breadth of knowledge for various Bioscience topics (chemistry, genetics etc.)

Personality: Generally reserved and not too keen on getting close to people. Mostly because he’s afraid they’ll discover his past and associations. He is generally friendly and polite however, and usually very willing to help. Like many in The Institute he’s very analytical and also maladjusted when it comes to wasteland living.

Weapons & armor/clothing: Has a well-worn hazmat suit that he uses to traverse the wasteland. Normally however, he can usually be found wearing a Vault-Tec doctor’s lab coat taken from Vault 88. He also wears a pair of eyeglasses, which he is virtually blind without.

For self defense, he carries around an Institute laser pistol, which he claims he scavenged off a destroyed synth, but was in fact his own personal firearm while he lived in The Institute. Which he never needed to use until recently.

(Previous) Occupation(s): Institute Bioscientist

Faction (Minutemen, Institute, BOS, Railroad, None. Etc): The Institute. Occasionally, he still sends and receives coded radio messages to friends, family, and colleagues in Vault 88. But only rarely, given the considerable risk involved for both parties.

Backstory: Arthur was born and raised in The Institute and like most there, never saw the surface, having spent his whole life within its sealed environment. As a child, he was raised on the notion that the surface was a horrifying place: a nightmare realm full of mutated monsters and savage raiders. An idea which stuck with him well into adulthood.

After receiving his doctorate, he entered The Institute’s Bioscience division where he served as a medical assistant for some time before jumping from project to project in various research roles. Eventually however, he was pulled into a top secret classified project within Bioscience after having been highly recommended by his superiors. He started work in the FEV Lab immediately.

Arthur was a part of the FEV Program for years, working very closely with his good friend and colleague Dr. Brian Virgil, and for years he experimented on wasteland test subjects. Injecting them with the modified variants of the Forced Evolutionary Virus and analyzing the results. Subjects that successfully transformed would typically be tagged and released back out into the wasteland. Those that did not, were terminated on the spot.

For years, Arthur never questioned his work. Many of the test subjects that were brought in were raiders, mercenaries, brutes, junkies, and savages. People who behaved as less than animals. All of these served to confirm his beliefs that the surface was a brutal, monstrous place. Experimenting on them for the betterment of science and even releasing them back to the surface, therefore, made perfect sense. After all, monsters belong where monsters live.

Every so often however, an individual would be brought in which didn’t meet this profile. They were scared, no petrified even, of him. And they certainly didn’t look like brutish savages. But they too would be used and then disposed. He initially justified this with his belief that even if rare exceptions occurred, the surface was still a terrible place where the weak would eventually be killed, tortured, or eaten. If anything, turning them would help them to survive in the brutal animalistic world they had to live in. And once they were turned, there was no going back anyway. And monsters belong where monsters live.

As the frequency of these ‘exceptions’ continued without noticeable change however, his doubts soon began to gnaw at him. They grew constantly, until it became an ulcer in his life. Eventually he couldn’t take it anymore and confided in his colleague, Dr. Virgil, that he was having doubts about the program and his role in it. Far from giving him the solace and reassurance he wanted however, Virgil told him that his feelings were the same and that he felt the project was both useless and deeply wrong. Together, they penned a formal letter of protest to The Director and requested the project be shut down, but it was summarily rejected.

Unsure of what to do next, and unwilling to continue their work, Virgil proposed a radical idea to Arthur. Sabotage. He made his intentions known that he planned to destroy the lab and escape The Institute if he had to, and he asked his friend to join him, knowing full well it might mean both of their deaths, but convinced that it had to be done. Arthur was shocked and terrified of the idea of leaving The Institute to live up top. Despite his misgivings about the project, he was still mortally fearful of anything above ground, and nightmares he’d had as a child about horrible things crawling around in the world above him crept back into his memory.

Arthur asked Virgil to give him a night to think about it, and they both agreed to discuss it the next morning. As Arthur lay awake in his bed however, his fear grew. Fear of being exiled and fear of what awaited him on the surface. His cowardice got the better of him, and he broke down. In the middle of the night, he reported Virgil to the SRB.

While Arthur waited in his apartment quietly, Coursers stormed Virgil’s residence. They did not find him there. A second group had moved to secure the FEV Lab, and there Dr. Virgil was found, alone, at the lab. Arthur never fully learned what transpired there that night. But from what he understood, Virgil had been up making preparations for their departure, in anticipation of his friend agreeing to join him. The lab had apparently been completely destroyed and rendered useless in the scuffle. He never saw Dr. Virgil again.

Guilt ridden at what he’d done. Both to his friend and in his work on the FEV project, Arthur requested medical leave from The Directorate, which he was granted under the circumstances. The ensuing days became a blur for him. And when The Institute was destroyed by an act of an outsider, The Director’s own father it seemed, Arthur made little protest or show of grief. Unlike most of his colleagues, he understood the reasons why this had happened.

When The Institute relocated to Vault 88, alive but resource strapped, and began the process of rebuilding. Arthur stayed for only a short while, before gathering what material possessions he owned, saying his goodbyes, and leaving. He journeyed out into the wasteland, fully expecting to die. But he knew he had to do it. After all, monsters belong where monsters live.

By some twist of fate though, he did not die. Instead he began roving from settlement to settlement and plying his services as a wandering physician, only asking for food, water, or a bed in return. In more than one instance, he had rather close encounters with the mutated monsters he’d helped to unleash. His own terrible creations. And in a few horrifying moments, he thought he recognized some of them.

Now Arthur’s wanderings have led him north to Salem. The quiet ruins of the seaside town has attracted his attention and hope that perhaps he can find a measure of peace here. Although he rather doubts it.

If the pistol makes him too obvious I'll change it.

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

Old Longfellow - Mariner's Shack
"Goddamnit didn't your mother ever tell you not to interrupt when adults are talking?" Longfellow barked back at the interruption, his speech a bit slurred, "And what do I look like anyway the Harbormaster? Huh? Just about everyone in town has got at a dinghy down there. But if you're going out to make more trouble with those cultists, then leave me out of it. Go bother someone else. Town's got enough trouble as it is."

Longfellow also happened to notice the look of recognition that two mainlanders shared between them, but decided to let that go for now. Wasn't any of his business..

He looked back at the Brotherhood man and listened as he explained who and what The Brotherhood were. Something about technology and weapons and flying contraptions. None of it really made sense to Longfellow but the man seemed to know what he was talking about in any case,

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


“Now your turn. What’s the story of Far Harbor, and the cult threatening you?”

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

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

Suddenly Longfellow was interrupted once again by someone coming in from the docks. The old man was about to really let this one have it as well when the Harborman told him that Doc Wright had sent for him down at the docks. Strange considering that he'd spoken to the doctor only minutes ago,

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

With that Longfellow walked off and down towards the harbor.

-Far Harbor Boat Docks-

"Teddy just what the hell is all the commotion about?" Longfellow bellowed as he came down the steps past the curious onlookers who were still trying to figure out what was going on. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the dead body,

"Oh." He said simply.

"Wh-what...what is...but he just..." Corrine clutched her stomach and spun around, grasping Teddy by the arm. "What happened?"

Teddy motioned for Corrine and Longfellow to come close, and then his whispered under his breath,

"Right now everyone is thinking he drowned. But I examined him, and he didn't die from a long dip in the ocean. He was dead or dying before he even hit the water. Someone sliced his throat almost to the bone. I thought it best if we didn't tell everyone just yet...don't want to start a panic after all. People start thinking there's cultists all around, and folks are paranoid enough as it is...we don't want to give them more cause to lash out at people."

"Can't keep that up forever Ted," Longfellow said disapprovingly, "Folks got a right to know."

"I know...I know," The Doc said shaking his head, "But its just temporary. Just until we can figure out what..."

"LET ME THROUGH! LET ME THROUGH GODDAMNIT!" The angry voice of a woman broke through the crowd and shortly afterward, Rose came barreling down the steps towards her dead partner.

Teddy was about to stop her before Longfellow intervened,

"That's her friend Ted, let er' go."

Rose keeled down and examined Bishop's dead body. She shook her head sorrowfully as she noticed the knife wound and stood up angrily, stamping her foot with such force that she cracked the rickety wooden boards on the docks,

"Bastards...I knew it. I knew they were here somehow. They must have tracked us from The Commonwealth. Tracked us the whole damn time."

"Who's here?" Teddy asked both confused and shocked by the woman's reaction.

"Something alot worse than those cultists," Rose snapped back, "The Institute."

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

OOC: Rolled a 4. The murder goes undetected for now.

Bishop's body slips beneath the water. The splash muffled under the roar of the lapping waves. James was fortunate for the thick fog and relatively deserted area of the dock to have no immediate witnesses to the crime. He manages to creep away from the scene undetected.

-1-2 Hours later-

The body does not however, completely disappear. With nothing to weigh it down, the incoming waves of the ocean inevitably bring Bishop's corpse back to shore. It bobs up and down with the tide and eventually ends up at the boat docks. A lonely fisherman spots the dead man floating and calls back to the Harbor,

"Oi! Man in the water!"

Quickly, the fisherman pulls the body to shore and shakes his head sadly as he looks for any sign of life. Doctor Teddy Wright is called for and rushes to the scene with a small crowd who heard the Fisherman's shout and he examines the dead man closely.

"Aye, looks like he fell from aloft and drowned Doc," The Fisherman says in a thick northern accent, "Poor fella."

The Doctor ignores the man and continues his examination. A cold horror grips him when he makes a grim realization.

"I need everyone to stand back," He says calmly but firmly, "I said stand back!" he repeats more loudly this time. He contemplates who he should tell about this, and two immediately come to mind,

"Somebody send for Longfellow and Corrine!" He says again, "Tell them its urgent. And keep everyone else back! You hear me?"

Several Harbormen and women nod their heads in understanding and one of them rushes off to find Corrine and Longfellow. The others stand guard and keep the townsfolk and anyone else confined to the town for the moment. Keeping them all beyond the small doorway that leads to the boat dock area.

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

Bishop - The Docks

“We can talk perfectly fine like this.” James said as he gently pushed (so not to cut... just yet) the combat knife against Bishop Throat “think of it as an extra execrative to tell the truth.”

"The longer you stand here with a knife to my throat, the more likely it is someone will see us," Bishop said matter-of-factly, "And I don't want to draw the attention of the locals any more than you do I'm sure. So its in both our interests if you lower the knife. Keep it handy if you want I'm not going to try anything. You got the drop on me...but just lower it so we can talk. Okay?"

“Now what exactly can you do to help me?”

"If you are what I think you are. Then you're a Synth whose likely going through memory relapse. That might be hard to hear, but its the truth. And if that's the case there's a couple possibilities. Either you're one of our former escapees, and your memory wipe is starting to wear off...in which case I can help with that. Or you're an Institute Synth that is malfunctioning. And if The Institute learns you're malfunctioning...then a Courser isn't far behind. And you don't want one of those on your trail...or in this town for that matter. Trust me."

"Me and my partner can give you shelter, supplies and try to get your memory problems under control so you stop having the flashes and visions. Then, when we leave for The Commonwealth, we can take you to a safehouse and get you to safety. That's my offer."

Old Longfellow - The Mariner's Shack

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

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

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

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

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

Doc Teddy Wright - Mariner's Shack

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

"Nothing I can't handle," Teddy replied in an upbeat tone as he began tending to the stranger's wounds. After a few hours of examination and medical attention, he'd given the man a full evaluation. James's leg had been set with a makeshift splint to keep it immobile. He also treated the cuts on his back with a bottle of old rubbing alcohol and a few bandages which wrapped around his chest, back, and abdomen.

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

With that, Teddy gave a wave to Longfellow, and stepped outside the shack for a few moments with him before heading down back the dock. Longfellow returned, pulled up a chair and sat down next to James. He then pulled out his flask and grabbed two old glasses from a nearby shelf. He poured himself a shot of whiskey and offered another to James.

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

Bishop - Being threatened

"Whoa, whoa take it easy now," Bishop said, feeling the end of the shotgun pressed into his back and the knife looming too close for comfort to his neck, "Look I can help you. You say you're having memory flashes right? Visions and things that don't make sense. I've seen it happen plenty of times before. Alot of Synths go through the same thing when they first 'come to' and realize what they are. Sometimes the memory wipe doesn't take or the memory programming is faulty. If you know who The Railroad are, then you know we're dedicated to helping Synths. Just put down the weapons, and lets talk man to man. Huh? No need for this to get ugly...I can help you."

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

OOC: @Lewis251 did two different rolls. 3/6 for following and then 2/6 for getting the jump if the first roll passed. Surprisingly passed both.

As James stepped out of the Bar, he began following the Railroad Agent Bishop. Bishop, while normally alert and mindful of his surroundings, the seasoned agent had apparently allowed his guard down for a fleeting moment here. Perhaps he assumed that nobody in the town would be after him.

James successfully tailed Bishop through the town, as the agent checked out stores and buildings throughout the town, apparently looking for something. When he arrived at the bait shop, he muttered something to Brooks, and the shopkeep shook his head and shrugged. Bishop thanked him and then resumed his wanderings.

The agent then made his way to the rear of the dock, and found himself alone on a quiet stretch of the 'shanty' area of Far Harbor. Where many of the towns bums and low-lifes hung out huddled at the very edge of the dock.

Bishop seemed lost in thought and was blissfully unaware of James's approach.

Old Longfellow

“Could I at least get checked out by a doctor before I go there? I think I suffered some injuries on the way here.”

Longfellow nodded thoughtfully, "Aye I suppose that could be arranged. Stay here and I'll go and fetch the Doc." He then pointed at the Harborman standing guard, "You remember what I said Tommy right?" The Harborman simply nodded and cradled the ancient shotgun he had in his arm. The gun had probably been passed down through his family for generations.

Some minutes later, Longfellow returned with a gentlemen in a dirty white labcoat. The man carried a small well-worn medical bag in his left hand and extended his right hand in a handshake,

"Name's Teddy," He said, "Teddy Wright. I'm the Doctor around here for Far Harbor. Only one in town matter-of-fact. I hear you came in from the fog but not much more than that. So what are we looking at here?"

Longfellow took Teddy aside briefly and whispered something into his ear,

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

He knelt down next to the stranger and opened his bag, revealing a small assortment of medical gear,

"Have any immediate injuries I need to look at?" He began, taking out a stethoscope and a few bandages.

War Never Changes

Titus Crassus - Queastor of The Legion, Day of The Second Convention

Having given the Great Khans Caesar's offer and asking them to relay their wishes to the Khan of Khans, Titus retired to his tent and slept soundly through the night.

The following morning, he awoke to the Mojave sun just starting to peek out beyond the mountain tops of the desert. The Queastor rose, dressed, washed, ate a small breakfast of fruit and bread and then he and Atius both mounted their horses and made the return journey back into Vegas and The Strip.

Once again, they left their horses with a slave at the Strip main gate and made their way back over to the Ultra Luxe, where House had just announced the commencement of the second day's diplomatic talks. As they entered the Ultra Luxue's gourmand once more, Titus took his seat and Atius stood at his post right behind his charge.

They appeared to be the first to arrive, which suited Atius just fine. A gourmand waiter offered them refreshment and Titus gladly took a glass of water and a pitcher to refill it with. Although he skipped on any sort of food.

Patiently, he waited for the other delegates to make their way back to the restaurant, and for the vaunted House to make his appearance.