Andronicus23

War Never Changes

Titus Crassus, Quaestor of The Legion

"Queastor", Martin said quietly as he handed the note to the younger man, "The Lord-Paladin sends his regards, and requested that I bring you this message. It is a message received from your front lines in Arizona. He feels the honor of delivering it to the convention is, by right, yours."

With a curious expression, Titus took the note from the aged Brotherhood scribe, "Thank you," he replied simply and opened the note. He couldn't help but let a grin crawl across his face as he read the report. He gave another nod to Brother Martin and then stood up,

"Honored delegates," he said, "If I might have the floor. I have just received news from the war in Arizona. The Legions of Caesar Lucius and his Legate have attacked and destroyed the NCR incursion force led by President Kimball. President Kimball Jr. of the NCR is confirmed to be among the dead."

With that, Titus sat down, allowing the delegates to talk among themselves or simply contemplate this new development.

------

Legion Camp of Legio I Arizona

"This way, quickly!"

The command of Legatus Aurelius was obeyed swiftly by the Praetorians carrying the stretcher which held the gravely wounded Caesar. They carried his body quickly through the camp and towards Caesar's grand tent at the center. The Legate and his Centurions had done their level best to keep the news of Caesar's injury a secret, but word had spread quickly through the camp. Legionaries had begun to tell each other stories of having seen Caesar himself riding towards the NCR President and skewering him with his own spear before falling. Silently, they sent up prayers to whatever God or gods they honored for the deliverance of their leader.

As the Praetorians approached, the tent flap opened to reveal Caesar's wife, Hannah, waiting anxiously for her wounded husband's arrival.

"Put him down gently on the bed," she told them. And carefully they lifted him off the stretcher and laid him down. Hannah rushed to his side. Caesar's armor had been removed, and his body bandaged as best the battlefield surgeons could to try and stabilize him, but he needed a real doctor: and a miracle no doubt. He was unconscious and Hannah took her husband's hand in her own.

"He fell valiantly. As a Son of Mars should," The Legate offered, "With the blood of his enemy on his spear."

Fighting back tears, Hannah turned back to the Aurelius, "He's not dead yet. Send for the doctor. Ask him to come to the tent at once."

"The healers are already.."

"Not your battlefield butchers or tribal wise-women," Hannah chided him, "A real doctor. The New Canaanites in the camp...ask for Dr. Thomas to come at once."

Aurelius raised an eyebrow but did nothing more than nod in reply. Years ago, perhaps he might have struck the woman for her insolence for daring to presume to order him. But things were different now. She was a Legion woman, and the wife of Caesar no less. He couldn't lay a finger on her. Instead, he exited the tent and ordered some of the Praetorians to go to the New Canaanite quarter in the camp and send for Dr. Thomas. The rest, he ordered to stay here and protect their Caesar with their life.

Minutes ticked by as Hannah gripped Lucius's hand tightly and felt his labored breath as his chest heaved weakly up and down. She then heard the cloth of the tent being pulled back again and turned to find a thin mustached man wearing a well-worn black suit with spectacles and a pocket-watch chain dangling from his left-most jacket pocket. It was as if the man had stepped right out of the 19th century. In his right hand, he carried a bag with a cross stitched on the side.

"Hannah?" He began, and then muttered "Oh...oh dear...." when he saw the wounded Caesar, "I'd heard the rumors but...I..."

"Nevermind that now Thomas....please...you must help him."

The doctor sat his bag down next to her and began pulling forth various medical instruments, "I'll do what I can Hannah, I promise..." He said.

---------

Hours passed beside the Caesar's bed, and the doctor had begun packing his medical supplies up into his case. Caesar was still unconscious, but he'd been given a slew of medicines to help treat his condition. Even still, the prognosis was not looking good.

As he stood up, Hannah reached out and grabbed his hand, "Will he live?"

"I can't be sure. I've done all I can, but he's suffered grievous injuries. Medical science has done all it can for him. Its in the Lord's hands now." He said as he tried to comfort her, "I'll return in an hour or two and change his bandages. I need to return to grab some more supplies. Watch over him and send for me if anything changes."

Hannah only nodded as the doctor exited the tent,

"Please God, help him." She prayed silently, and placed a necklace with a small cross around Lucius's neck, "You have to live," She whispered to her husband, "For your child..."

She then lay her head down on the bed and fell asleep, exhausted as she was.

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Dr. Arthur West - Salem Clinic
“Okay…did she say they dropped off a generator? Why would they… so I take it that’s why I saw some scribes up on that roof. Are they setting up a power grid for the town?” Rick said out loud as he watched Frieda leave and then turned to the doctor. “Is it me or does she seem a little off to you?”

Arthur gave a small shrug,

"Hard to say. She's...different, to be sure. She grew up in a highly disciplined, structured, military society after all. Her whole life was probably regimented from dawn to dusk. I imagine anyone trying to transition out of that life would be...off to say the least."

A brief moment of reflection crossed Arthur's mind then, as he reflected that what he'd just said could easily be applied to The Institute as well, just with a few changes to verbiage.

"As for The Brotherhood," He continued, "I'm worried about the town reaching out to them for help. I know little about The Brotherhood's operations, but from what I heard from the settlements I talked to: The Brotherhood used to go around asking for food and supplies in exchange for support. In effect, they attempted to align with towns and get a tribute system working. I can't imagine they would try that here, but its not impossible I suppose..."

Arthur turned to Ace, his hand rubbed his chin in thought,

"It does give me an idea however, I wonder if we might be able to send a similar request to The Directorate for assistance here. Word it in such a way that they might find interest in sending some aid. Some medical supplies and equipment for the clinic would do wonders here and if we could get a Courser requisitioned...well, the town wouldn't have to worry about attacks from raiders anymore. That's for sure. Its a long shot, I know, and we'd have to be extremely discrete about it to the townsfolk. Perhaps we should give it some thought at least..."

---------------

Edit: Forgot to include the response to Frieda
Sometime later

Arthur was sitting up in his small residence above the clinic when a knock came at the door. It was Frieda,

"Uh, hey, Arthur. Something...has come up. I need to show you something. I'll just take a second. Brandy had this in her possession." She procured the vial from her pocket and held it out to the doctor. Enclave branding. I don't know what it does, but you're the only person I know who would be able to figure it out." Frieda swallowed, then added. "I kind of...found it by accident, then took it without asking. If...you catch my meaning..."

"Enclave branding? Let me see..." Arthur replied as he adjusted his glasses and carefully took the small vial from Frieda's hand, examining it closely.

Frieda cleared her throat. "She's keeping baby chickens in the basement. I was looking for their food when I found, well," Frieda gestured at the vial. "What do you think it is? Why would she have it?"

Arthur turned the vial over in his hand, "Hmmm...accelerated growth...well I haven't the fainest idea about The Enclave's cataloging system or what it's designation could mean, I'd say its clearly some sort of growth hormone. I can't know for sure its composition unless I run a few tests on it of course. If it is a hormone supplement of some type its not particularly concerning by itself: not dangerous I mean. But...the more intriguing question is how she acquired it in the first place..."

He paused for a few moments and looked back up at Frieda, "I don't suppose its possible Brandy is ex-Enclave is it? Barring that I suppose we can only speculate. You mention she was keeping baby chickens as well...did they look odd in any way?"

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Zhelk

Name: Zhelk

Age: Unknown, but elderly in aspect

Race: Irradiated Mutant, Possibly Ghoul

Sex: Male

Skills: Proselytizing the word of Atom, radiation manipulation, subterfuge

Personality: At first glance, he appears to be nothing more than a deformed, hunched over mutant, and gives off a frightful presence. However, when required he can whip himself into a frenzy of oration that can inspire even the most doubtful of Atom’s servants to throw down their lives for their new god.

Zealous and utterly convinced of Atom’s truth, he is half-crazed but also deeply intelligent when it comes to the skillful use of Atom’s gifts.

Weapons & armor/clothing: Wears a long sickly green tattered robe embroidered with various intricate designs sacred to the Church of Atom and which keeps most of his body covered. Where his skin and body does shows through the torn fabric, it can be seen to be covered in a variety of pustules, sores, lesions, and necrotic flesh. His face is partly obscured by both his hood, and bandages wrapped around his face, but his eyes are still visible and glow an unearthly green. He wears an old leather belt around his waist attached to which is a variety of bottles filled with glowing green liquid, along with various alchemical substances and poisons sacred to the Children of Atom. He also carries with him a well-worn bound book that is secured tightly to his side at all times. The book, supposedly, contains visions and insights from Atom himself.

He also has with him a medium-size staff which serves as both a walking stick, a weapon, and a religious instrument. Attached firmly to the top end of the staff by a metal chain is a spiked censer which encases a highly radioactive rock that is believed to have fallen from the sky as a gift from Atom himself. Zhelk uses this as a flail-like weapon to attack enemies and the radiation it emits, which is quite potent, more often than not is enough to make them succumb. Those that bear Atom’s gift and are immune, however, would be unaffected: which is where the large metal spikes come in.

Occupation(s): Wandering Atomic Monk, and Prophet of Atom

Faction: Chuch of The Children of Atom

Backstory: Zhelk was originally known by another name, and was once a young impudent wastelander who happened upon the first of Atom’s worshippers, long before even the city of Megaton was constructed. He was at first, of course, highly skeptical of the cult and its practices and even outright dismissive. After unknowingly drinking highly contaminated water, he was shown a series of lucid visions so potent and so impossible to explain that it was utterly impossible for him to deny the reality of Atom any longer. He threw himself wholeheartedly into his new faith, and his piety and zealotry outshone even many of his fellow brothers and sisters in the church.

Eventually, he was forced to leave due to his...unnatural worship practices, most of which even his fellow Children of Atom thought too extreme. These included refusing to bathe in anything but the most putrid irradiated water and regularly scrubbing himself with pollutants, radioactive substances, and all manner of foul concoctions in hope of gaining favor with Atom. He was not born with an immunity to radiation, and his body swiftly began showing signs of decay and unnatural sickness. However, despite constantly appearing as if he was at death’s door, he never died, and indeed eventually began to thrive off the substances he regularly imbued, which made him all the more convinced that Atom had looked on him with favor. He has now crossed the line and become something not wholly human, but also not entirely inhuman either. He is not quite a ghoul, but is almost certainly a form of one. Ferals he has encountered do not attack him, and indeed he has found that like many of the so-called “Glowing Ones” he too can manipulate and use radiation as both a source of healing, and to call down upon his enemies. Where he trods, Atom's glow follows and he is almost a living conduit of radioactivity.

Since his conversion, Zhelk has wandered the wasteland spreading the word of Atom and has become something of a legend within the Children of Atom. Some have heard of the “Wandering Radiation Monk” and welcome him with open arms as a prophet and great holy man, others fear and shun him thinking he is some kind of demon. It doesn’t matter to him either way however, he knows the truth of Atom. He has seen his holy light, and felt his presence. There can be no doubt: Atom is the one true god of this world, and all must serve him.

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Hooded Wayfarer - Outside Crater House

In the darkness of the early morning hours, just before the sun had peaked up over the horizon, a stranger in a tattered cloak approached the site of Crater House. In his gnarled flesh-stripped hands he gripped a walking staff to steady himself, and he walked hunched and with a crooked gait. Attached to the staff by chain was a glowing censer, which lit his way like a lantern while about his person the jangling of glass bottles could be heard. The bottles were similarly illuminated with various substances, and could easily been seen through the dark. Many people might find such radiant light sources detrimental and even harmful when traversing the wastes, but the robed individual had no such concerns. Atom provided all the protection he required.

With great effort, he made his way to the front of the Crater House door, inspecting the surrounding area and noting the lights of a wasteland town in the distance.

He knocked on the door of the radioactive sanctuary three times with his staff, and waited patiently for someone to answer.

Seconds later, an individual dressed in the attire of an acolyte of Atom answered. He looked over the stranger suspiciously with a discerning eye,

"Who...are you?"

"A simple traveler and fellow worshiper of Atom," the hooded figure replied, "Only seeking rest from the harsh wastes in the company of his brothers and sisters."

"I see..." The acolyte replied, "Then...welcome. Our doors are always open to fellow disciples of the Holy Light. Please, enter and rest yourself. I'll fetch some food and water for you."

"Thank you," the stranger replied. And entered the Crater. He took a seat on a nearby torn cushioned chair. He waited patiently for the acolyte to return with a simple metal tray of irradiated water and some mutfruit. The stranger merely took the water and gulped it down greedily.

"Is there...anything I can do for you?" The acolyte asked once again.

"Yes," The stranger looked up, the slight glow of his eyes now visible and parts of his mutated face not covered by bandages becoming illuminated, "Please, I'd be very interested to speak to your Confessor or whoever leads this congregation...or might speak for them."

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Possible new character for approval:

Name: Zhelk

Age: Unknown, but elderly in aspect

Race: Irradiated Mutant, Possibly Ghoul

Sex: Male

Skills: Proselytizing the word of Atom, radiation manipulation, subterfuge

Personality: At first glance, he appears to be nothing more than a deformed, hunched over mutant, and gives off a frightful presence. However, when required he can whip himself into a frenzy of oration that can inspire even the most doubtful of Atom’s servants to throw down their lives for their new god.

Zealous and utterly convinced of Atom’s truth, he is half-crazed but also deeply intelligent when it comes to the skillful use of Atom’s gifts.

Weapons & armor/clothing: Wears a long sickly green tattered robe embroidered with various intricate designs sacred to the Church of Atom and which keeps most of his body covered. Where his skin and body does shows through the torn fabric, it can be seen to be covered in a variety of pustules, sores, lesions, and necrotic flesh. His face is partly obscured by both his hood, and bandages wrapped around his face, but his eyes are still visible and glow an unearthly green. He wears an old leather belt around his waist attached to which is a variety of bottles filled with glowing green liquid, along with various alchemical substances and poisons sacred to the Children of Atom. He also carries with him a well-worn bound book that is secured tightly to his side at all times. The book, supposedly, contains visions and insights from Atom himself.

He also has with him a medium-size staff which serves as both a walking stick, a weapon, and a religious instrument. Attached firmly to the top end of the staff by a metal chain is a spiked censer which encases a highly radioactive rock that is believed to have fallen from the sky as a gift from Atom himself. Zhelk uses this as a flail-like weapon to attack enemies and the radiation it emits, which is quite potent, more often than not is enough to make them succumb. Those that bear Atom’s gift and are immune, however, would be unaffected: which is where the large metal spikes come in.

Occupation(s): Wandering Atomic Monk, and Prophet of Atom

Faction: Chuch of The Children of Atom

Backstory: Zhelk was originally known by another name, and was once a young impudent wastelander who happened upon the first of Atom’s worshippers, long before even the city of Megaton was constructed. He was at first, of course, highly skeptical of the cult and its practices and even outright dismissive. After unknowingly drinking highly contaminated water, he was shown a series of lucid visions so potent and so impossible to explain that it was utterly impossible for him to deny the reality of Atom any longer. He threw himself wholeheartedly into his new faith, and his piety and zealotry outshone even many of his fellow brothers and sisters in the church.

Eventually, he was forced to leave due to his...unnatural worship practices, most of which even his fellow Children of Atom thought too extreme. These included refusing to bathe in anything but the most putrid irradiated water and regularly scrubbing himself with pollutants, radioactive substances, and all manner of foul concoctions in hope of gaining favor with Atom. He was not born with an immunity to radiation, and his body swiftly began showing signs of decay and unnatural sickness. However, despite constantly appearing as if he was at death’s door, he never died, and indeed eventually began to thrive off the substances he regularly imbued, which made him all the more convinced that Atom had looked on him with favor. He has now crossed the line and become something not wholly human, but also not entirely inhuman either. He is not quite a ghoul, but is almost certainly a form of one. Ferals he has encountered do not attack him, and indeed he has found that like many of the so-called “Glowing Ones” he too can manipulate and use radiation as both a source of healing, and to call down upon his enemies. Where he trods, Atom's glow follows and he is almost a living conduit of radioactivity.

Since his conversion, Zhelk has wandered the wasteland spreading the word of Atom and has become something of a legend within the Children of Atom. Some have heard of the “Wandering Radiation Monk” and welcome him with open arms as a prophet and great holy man, others fear and shun him thinking he is some kind of demon. It doesn’t matter to him either way however, he knows the truth of Atom. He has seen his holy light, and felt his presence. There can be no doubt: Atom is the one true god of this world, and all must serve him.

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

OOC: I'm assuming Summer is still out like a light so they can talk freely.

Dr. Arthur West- Salem Clinic Church

"I'm going to do the job I promised to do, partly because I won't back down on a commitment I made, willingly and on my own -- but also, because...well...because..." She stuffed the pill into her mouth and chewed it before she could say anything more. Frieda smiled, "Brotherhood will have to go through me, first, and I don't go down easy."

Arthur sighed in relief,

"Thank you Frieda...I...appreciate that. Its hard for me to find loyal friends on the surface, and harder still to find ones to always rely on. I'm glad that you seem to be both. Perhaps...perhaps we can help each other out in that way. I..."

He was about to say more, when he heard a familiar voice calling from the first floor.

“Hey doc, you here?... I take it you saw vertibird in the sky…”

He turned back to Frieda, "Ah, that'll be Rick...come on, I'll introduce you properly now that...well...now that the cards are on the table as it were."

Arthur walked down and found Rick staring up nervously at the sky, "Good morning Rick. Yes, indeed I saw them," He began, "In fact, I was just having a conversation with Frieda about their arrival here. She was just as concerned as we were, albeit for different reasons," he paused for a moment, judging Rick's reaction before continuing, he then looked to Frieda and then back to Rick, "Frieda...this is Rick Noel. I'm not sure if you were properly introduced yet...but, well, he's an...associate of mine. I've told her who we are Rick. I believe we can trust Ms. Richter far better than we might trust any of our other informants on the surface. She doesn't have any reason to hate us, and indeed, sympathizes with us far better than anyone else might. I'm not an SRB Agent, I know, and perhaps I overstepped myself, but we need friends out here..."

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Doctor Arthur West - Salem

"Listen, I was up all night standing watch at the town road, and that vertibird really threw me for a loop. I need something to help keep me alert for another few hours, until I have found Barney to take over for Waylon at the town road, and I've figured out what the deal is with the, ahem, Brotherhood...presence.I have no reason to believe they would recognize or shoot me on sight, and I won't do same unless they give me reason to. They delivered some equipment, seems to me they aren't here for any other reason. But, just to be sure..."

Frieda tilted her head. "You all right? You think you have something for me?"

"I lied to you Frieda," Arthur blurted out suddenly, unable to stop himself.

After he said that, he began looking around nervously both behind and in front of them, before adding in a much lower voice, "You're not the only one they could be after...we need to talk, but not here. Follow me back to my office."

With that, Arthur walked back to the clinic and up the stairs to his little second floor abode. Summer was still fast asleep on the bottom floor, and would probably not wake up with all the medication she was under even if they shouted to one another. Arthur motioned for Frieda to take a seat in one of the cushioned chairs,

"Wait here." He said simply, and disappeared back behind the doorway leading to the mezzanine before reappearing a few moments later with a small pristine white box. He hesitated for a few moments, but brought it forward with a renewed expression of determination and sat it down on the desk next to her and made no attempt to hide the vitruvian man seal stamped on it along with the words "Institute", "Assigned Nutrition," and "2110". He opened the box and pulled out a small light brown pill and offered it to Frieda.

"Its safe, I promise you," He added, "Its an energy supplement. Potent, but not dangerous. It should keep you awake and alert for the rest of the day. No caffeine crash either, and as a bonus, it takes like caramel coffee. Real coffee." Arthur gave a slight chuckle as he sat down, "We always popped these things like candy during final examinations, used to call them Dr. Volkert's study-buddies."

Arthur then gave a heavy sigh before continuing, "I owe you an explanation Frieda. I'm not...I'm not actually from a Vault. I'm not a Vault Dweller and I never was. I'm an Institute scientist. A head researcher with the Bioscience Division, " As he talked, he began slowly tracing his finger over the symbol on the box, "You've heard of us I suppose even if you haven't heard all the stories. The people here call us the boogeyman. They hate us and fear us in equal measure. And, to be honest, they are right to. The Commonwealth used to be our playground and we were..well..in some sense, gods. Materialize and de-materialize wherever we chose to, send our Synths to kill or crush whoever we wished, and puppet the people of The Commonwealth like marionettes on strings. That's what we did: and why we were cast down. The Commonwealth thinks The Institute and everyone in it was all wiped out..but that's not true. I'm here, and I'm not the only one."

He paused for a moment, and then got up and looked out the window of the church, towards where the Brotherhood were still helping Ace work up the generator, "If The Brotherhood were to learn who I was, they would have me pressed up to a wall and shot without question. In fact, I daresay that if anyone else in this town were to find out then they'd likely do the same. The Brotherhood coming in suddenly today made me realize something. Yesterday....you offered to help guard this clinic, but you need to understand just who and what you're really protecting here. You deserve that much at least, and if you want to reconsider your offer now then I'll accept that too."

Arthur let out another sigh and turned away from the window. Looking back at Frieda,

"I apologize for not telling you before, even after you told me who you were I still lied. You have to understand though that I know very little about the surface. And even though I was deep in the confidence of The Director of The Institute himself, I have no way of knowing what Father did or didn't keep from me. I know very well he kept terrible secrets from others: I was shamefully apart of those secrets, but for all I know, The Institute and The Enclave were at war and the mere mention of the name would have led you to shoot me."

A thought crossed his mind then. He stood silent for a few moments, contemplating it, before adding,

"I suppose that's still a possibility...in which case...I guess I just ask that you kill me quickly."

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Dr. Arthur West - Sunrise

The early morning sunrise crept out and over the horizon and Arthur woke to the sound of loud rotary blades cutting through the air. It was an unmistakable sound, and not one that his was particularly pleased to hear. It took him a minute or two, to truly register the sound and realize what it probably meant.

He quickly threw on his clothes and labcoat and rushed out the door of the church. It only occurred to him briefly after he'd exited that standing outside with an unknown vertibird flying around outside was probably not the smartest idea. He was quick to blame the early morning grogginess however.

Arthur looked to the sky and, sure enough, there was the tell-tale aircraft. He saw the craft first, and then he noticed the insignia on it. He let out an audible gasp,

"The Brotherhood..."

His thoughts immediately began racing with the possibilities. Who were they here for? Him? Rick? Or maybe...maybe Frieda..it was hard to tell. Perhaps they'd track one or all of them down somehow. Or perhaps Ace had figured it out and let his Brotherhood comrades know where to find them. He looked down and realized he was clutching his Institute pistol. Had he grabbed it on his way out? He couldn't remember. He'd been in such a rush he couldn't really be sure. What was he going to do? Shoot them? Run for it? He looked around desperately. Frieda wasn't in the clinic and he had no idea where Rick might be. He'd have to warn them. He'd have to..

Arthur stopped his train of thought as he noticed that the aircraft appeared to be carrying something. Not only that, but there was Ace: ready to meet the vertibird and its occupants. It was hard to tell what exactly the device they were carrying was, but from the looks of it, it seemed like of a generator of some sort. Brotherhood scribes dropped off from the vertibird began helping Ace set it up, and Arthur breathed a small sigh of relief....maybe they weren't here for anyone after all. The fact that The Brotherhood was here at all still left him uneasy however. If they even suspected where he'd come from, or Rick, or Frieda...well...they'd probably all be lining a wall blindfolded before the day was out. And he wasn't confident the town would shelter them if The Brotherhood had them in their sights.

He needed to talk to someone. Rick might know what to do, although he'd probably advise just to steer clear of them and lay low, at least for the time being. He hoped Frieda had seen them arriving too, and was coming to the same conclusions he was. Of course, she wouldn't know why he was so alarmed by them...that might make things a bit awkward...but nevertheless he'd still try and warn her if he could.

Once more he looked down, saw his pistol, and quickly stuffed it under his labcoat. He walked back into the clinic, hid it underneath his makeshift mattress, and then walked back outside: hoping to find Rick, Frieda, or both. To anyone else, he'd just say the aircraft had woken him up and he'd decided to go out for a walk.

Nothing out of the ordinary, just the town Doctor out for a morning stroll. Nothing more.

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

The Gang Finds The Vertibird

After the unfortunate encounter with the Angler, the group chooses not to chase after the wounded creature and instead continues on their search for the downed vertibird. They creep through the island's underbrush and try to keep as silent as they can, keen on not stirring up another monstrosity like the one they'd just encountered.

The needle on the homing device continues to climb, until its apparent that the vertibird is almost directly in front of them. Sure enough, through the thick fog, they can start to make out the faint outline of the downed craft. However, as they approach it, they can also make out the silhouettes of other figures. The silhouettes eventually begin to materialize into the distinct shapes of several cultists in their characteristic robes and white masks, at least four of them. Three cultists appear to be ransacking the vertibird, shifting through gear and the corpses of Castner's comrades. It appears that they've already removed the bodies from the wreckage, and have curiously set them neatly to the side and lined up in a row with white shrouds covering them as if preparing them for burial.

Behind the three cultists looting the wreckage, a fourth stands idly by directing the others in their efforts. He or she, the flowing robes making it almost impossible to assume gender, appears to clearly be the 'leader' of this small band. An odd headdress shaped to resemble something out of ancient Egypt and made of various odds and ends from the island is adorned atop the cultists head, given further credence to their status. Standing directly beside this individual is a gulper. This gulper, unlike the others, appears to be smaller and the head cultist strokes its back almost lovingly as if it is a beloved pet.

The head cultist turns to the others,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

War Never Changes

The New York Syndicate (Secretly The Institute)

Don Borgio sat back and listened intently as the various delegates spoke on the Quaestor's proposal. What began as a simple proposition, quickly turned into a shouting match in at least one case, as a delegate from the Pennsylvania Commonwealth had shouted their opposition and disapproval towards the Legion representative. Afterwards, the man known as General Barnaky had revealed information regarding a secret invasion force and delivered an ultimatum. Finally a gentlemen from Alaska had given his own opinion.

All of it was very confusing and not terribly much of interest to the Don or his family, or rather to the puppeteers that controlled them. The business of the western nations was mostly unknown to them. And while it ran parallel to the goal of learning more about the wasteland powers beyond just those in the east coast, becoming involved at all in this spat between rivals seemed ill-advised seeing as how it was all too far away to be of any real concern. This talk of the cult, however, piqued the Don's interest greatly.

Once there was a lull in the discussion, he cleared his throat and began,

"Well as for me and my family. I would say I have to agree with the gentlemen of Alaska on this whole matter and I find myself in a similar situation. Whatever the quarrels of the western nations are, as important as they may be to those involved, they are far removed from us in the east. And so I don't have an opinion either way on the vote. In due time though, I would like to discuss more about this 'Cult' and whatever threat they may or may not pose..."