Andronicus23

War Never Changes

The New York Syndicate (Secretly The Institute) - New Vegas, The Gourmand

The Convention was starting to wrap up following the announcement of an armistice between the NCR and Legion. Don Borgio actually seemed a bit disappointed with the early dismissal, but intrigued by the possibility of more negotiations in the future.

"Very well then," He sighed after the Legion representative had spoken. He then waved down a nearby waiter, "I'd like the check, please. If you don't mind."

"Then to Kimball, a fool who knew no equal, may he at least find some peace where he goes." The man from Alaska announced with a toast.

"Yes to Kimball," Don Borgio replied, raising his own glass.

The Don then turned to his two children, seated on either side of him,

"Lets be off. I'd like to make it back to New York as soon as possible. We've got much to do my children. Much to do."

"Of course," Antony said with a nod, "Here father, let me help you with your coat."

"Grazie, Antony," The Don replied. As he stood up, he looked over to his daughter, who had a vacant expression on her face. It looked as if she'd seen a ghost, "Lucia my dear, what is it?"

Lucia sat silently staring for a few seconds, before slowly mouthing the words,

"I...I don't know...I feel....I feel strange."

"Its this damnable Mojave air," The Don replied with a huff, "Come now. You'll be right as rain once we get back home. Grab your things. We're departing immediately."

"I'm not sure I want to go..." Lucia continued, "I think...I think I'd like to stay here...in Vegas."

Lucia then felt a gloved hand on her shoulder. She turned to see one of her father's goons standing directly behind her. Looking at her with an intensity that she'd never seen before,

"I think you had better listen to your father," The man said, in an emotionless tone of voice that struck her as very odd. For the life of her Lucia couldn't seem to remember his name. In fact, she couldn't remember either one the two bodyguard's names.

Lucia simply nodded and grabbed her effects. Her father hadn't seemed to notice the exchange, oddly enough, and was already on his way out the door along with Antony. He was cheerfully humming Sinatra's "New York, New York" and Lucia had to crack a smile, perhaps he was right. Maybe it was the Mojave air. She was ready to go home.

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

As the Borgio family left the Gourmand, the two bodyguards turned to one another.

"Z4, there is an issue with the female Synth. Her memory reset may not have been fully clean. I will signal SRB once we've taken off from McCarren. Ideally, we should be back in Boston within six hours."

"Let them know we will be ready for relay as soon as the transmitter comes in range. The plane will go down, as planned, in Pennsylvania. Should anyone be tracking our flight, that should dissuade any curiosity."


Hours Later...
Board Room of The Directorate - The Institute, Underneath The Ruins of CIT

Seated around a pristine white table on one of the upper levels of The Institute's concourse, The Directorate had gathered following the successful return of the Synth 'diplomats' from Vegas. Each of the heads of The Institute's divisions were present: Dr. Clayton Holdren: representing Bioscience, Dr. Alana Secord: representing the Synth Retention Bureau, Dr. Madison Li: representing Advanced System, and Dr. Allie Fillmore: representing Facilities.

Seated at the end of the table was the final member of The Directorate: The Director himself: Dr. Thomas Milburn. A man in his early forties with light streaks of silver in his finely combed hair and wearing a thin pair of rounded glasses. He wore a starch white labcoat atop a neatly pressed pre-war sweater-vest and pants. He very much looked the part of a bookish college professor, one who had, quite literally, stepped out of the world before the bombs had fallen. Behind him, seated off to the side with her legs propped up causally on a nearby end table, was a woman who looked distinctly out of place when compared with the individuals seated around the table. The red-haired woman looked much more like a mercenary than a scientist, and wore a form-fitting red and white jumper and a holstered energy pistol strapped to her waist. She appeared decidedly disinterested in the meeting, and instead seemed to be focused on reading a well-worn pre-war pulp magazine.

Splayed out on the table in front of The Directorate was a stack of meticulously complied manila folders. Each folder consisted of a dossier on the major world leaders and attendees to the New Vegas Convention which were filled out with as much detail as could be gathered. A picture of each of the individuals was attached to the first document in the folder, and a number of other photos, taken by hidden cameras on the synth, were tucked away within them as well. Each member of The Directorate was going through the stack: opening the folders and examining the contents within with a discerning eye.

"Alana, are you sure of these reports?" Clayton asked. He was holding an opened folder in his hand, "This seems....well this all seems rather far-fetched. Mercenary Companies, a new nation in Texas, tribals dressing as Roman soldiers, a nation calling itself the New Republic of...California? A Brotherhood of Steel chapter that appears led by some sort of cyborg and, worst of all, some sort of fanatical religious cult? And those are just the ones I've read so far!"

"I assure you Clayton, these reports are accurate. I've had SRB Agents combing through the information we received back from the infiltrator Synths along with the Watcher Crows we sent. None of this has been fabricated or exaggerated."

"I can speak to the veracity of the dossier regarding The Brotherhood...not that it is my place to do SRB's job for them.." Dr. Li replied, "This...'Simon Barnaky'. I heard mention of him and the Midwestern Chapter back when I was in D.C. I had heard Elder Lyons remark on the differences between the Midwestern chapter and those back west. I never really understood how different, however, until I read this document."

"They're using Vault Zero as a base of Operations..." Thomas said as he sat back in his chair, "Hmm. I suppose the rumors of a government project there were true then."

"Sir?"

"Before the war, there were rumors flying about a specially constructed Vault. It contained a large amount of military surplus and robotics technology, including some of the most advanced neuro-robotics equipment known to us at the time. The assumption was that it was going to be used for some sort of specialized government recovery plan in the event of Nuclear War. If this chapter has indeed taken the vault, then they will certainly pose far more of a threat than Maxson's chapter ever could."

"Well maybe they'll fry up just as easy at least," the red-haired woman remarked, without looking up from her reading.

"Unfortunately Cait, 'Liberty Prime' won't be able to do the frying this time. Its a pity we were unable to save it from destruction. It was an interesting, if largely unpractical, machine."

"Impractical? I'd say giant lasers comin' out of its head did the job juuuust right."

Dr. Li scoffed, "It still had power issues even after I'd worked on it...they would never have been able to finish it without my help..."

"And we're grateful you didn't," Thomas added.

A stifled chuckle emanated from some of the Directorate's members before they returned to reading the dossiers,

"This nation hails all the way from Alaska..." Allie mumbled with surprise as she took a look at a document containing images and descriptions of both North and Victoria, as well as some best-guess information about the function of the Alaskan Federations government, "How is that even possible?"

"The world's far more interconnected than we assumed it would seem," Thomas replied thoughtfully, "Even our extreme predictions fell short of the mark for how advanced these surface-dwellers can be. Of course, I would never have thought such a gathering of nations possible in today's day and age period."

"Advanced is a relative term I'd say..." Clayton remarked dryly, "A war was apparently immediately declared not but a few hours into this convention. If that's their idea of diplomacy I'm not sure attending a second convention will be in our best interests..."

"Isolationism had kept The Institute safe for many years, but if we continue to dig our heads in the sand and ignore the outside world, eventually we're going to find someone, or something, knocking down our door rather violently."

"Well...they'd have to find us first," Clayton joked.

"I did."

A low quiet fell over the gathered Directorate members, broken only by the sounds of Cait flipping pages.

Thomas looked down and began twisting a small gold ring on his finger, before he looked back up at the Directorate, their eyes locked to him,

"Someone once told me that you can never find The Institute. That The Institute will always find you first. He was wrong. Never presume that we are invulnerable here. We need allies above ground...allies who can help us navigate this insane new world that we find ourselves in..."

"You have someone in mind I presume?" Li asked.

A grin spread across Thomas's face, "There is one that I think we might be able to work with. An old colleague of mine who survived the war, much like myself. He's the architect of this grand convention that is the reason we were compelled to gather information in the first place."

Thomas opened the folder he had before him, and slid it across the table. The picture was of a thin mustached, dour looking gentlemen standing next to a younger Thomas. Behind the two men, was a prototype protectron with a faceplate containing the words 'RobCo Industries.' Far from looking like a picture that had been taken recently, the photo appeared to be pre-war black and white.

"Robert Edwin House. Founder of RobCo, and graduate of CIT."

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Dr. Arthur West - Salem Church

Arthur was started by the sound of the gunshots and very nearly dropped the tray of medical supplies he was carrying when Steve had shot up about of his unconscious state, apparently delirious and potentially hallucinating,

“Sorry doctor I though the brotherhood..... never mind, it was just a Bad Dream.”

Arthur rushed over to his beside and yanked the gun out of his hand. He popped the clip out and threw the gun off to the side,

"That's quite enough of that," He said gruffly, "Good lord you might have shot me..."

Arthur didn't have much time to contemplate too long on the fact that the man had apparently been imagining shooting Brotherhood soldiers, before Frieda came back carrying a wounded Brandy. The woman looked to be in a state of shock and had clearly suffered an attack from one of the deathclaw creatures,
"Her shoulder's bloodied up, I didn't really look at it," Frieda said to Arthur. "I found her in her basement. She was hiding, maybe? I honestly don't know. She had knocked down both shelves, whole place is a mess."

He bent down to examine her, using his fingers to gently pry open her eyelids to examine her dilated pupils. As Frieda had pointed out, she had indeed gone into shock. Likely caused by both the stress of her encounter as well as the loss of blood.

"Brandy? Its Dr. West...can you hear me?" Arthur asked. He reached for a small pocket light he had and pointed it to her eyes. He needed to check if perhaps the creature had bashed her head or if she'd fallen in the course of trying to escape from it.

Frieda took a shuddered breath. "She'll be okay, though, right? It's just a...like, a flesh wound?"

"Its a nasty gash she got from that creature...but yes, she should be fine with proper treatment. I'll need to clean and examine her wound better as quickly as possible."

Arthur quickly walked over and washed his hands thoroughly before throwing on a pair of latex gloves and grabbing some supplies including a long roll of bandages and antiseptic.

Just then, Ace entered the Clinic as well, limping slowly and looking haggard and in pain,
"Oh my god... hey doc, is she going to be alirght?"

Arthur took a glance down and saw blood running down Ace's arm. At first he thought perhaps his hand or wrist had been cut, but then quickly understood that Ace was clutching a wound on his stomach,

"She'll be okay," he replied slowly and calmly, "But uh...why don't you have a seat over there Ace? Take it easy..." He walked over and helped him over to one of the Clinic's chairs.

"Frieda, can you start treating Brandy? She may need a shot of Med-X to start...I need to take a look at Ace first and then I'll be right there."

With a concerned face, Arthur then walked over to the wounded Ace. Gashes and cuts to the upper-body were one thing....but if Ace had taken a deep cut to his stomach he could potentially have organ damage. For all he knew...Ace was clutching his intestines right then and there. A man in shock could have walked that far on adrenaline alone.

Upon closer examination, he breathed a sigh of relief when the cut wasn't nearly as bad as he'd feared,

"You'll be fine Ace," He said, as he grabbed a nearby clean cloth and handed it to Ace, "You might need stitches but it didn't cut deep. Go ahead and use that to put pressure on the bleeding for now and I'll be right back. I need to take another look at Brandy...and...do you know if anyone else is hurt out there?"

Zhelk - Outside Crater House

Zhelk leaned on his staff for support as he considered the Inquisitor's words. He closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh,

"An unfortunate situation indeed if the Children of Atom attack the innocent without due cause. Only when we are provoked should violence be met with violence...but tell me brother, what proof do you have of these accusations? Who makes these claims, serious as they are? You must know as well as I that those not of our faith are often quick to condemn it...to shun us and even kill Brothers and Sisters without provocation...simply because we do the work of Atom. They fear what they do not understand...and they do not understand that it is only by supplication to The Glow that they might find salvation from this world..."

The deformed monk lifted up a gnarled hand. Radioactive energy coursed through him and a small ball of holy green light emanated outwards, illuminating a small swathe of the landscape around them.

"I would urge caution Inquisitor. We should not be so hasty in the persecution of our own. That said, if you are correct, and members of this congregation have been engaging in such unlawful acts...even against non-believers....then we should purge their heresy immediately. Their slanderous acts should offend any Child of Atom....for how might we preach Atom's words if we cannot speak to those who need to hear it most?"

War Never Changes

Santa Fe, Capital of The Legion

With the official signing of the NCR-Legion Armistice, copies of the proclamation were quickly drafted up and delivered to all corners of Caesar's empire. Likewise, radio communications and messages were frantically sent to Legion commanders and delivered directly into the hands of the Midwestern ambassador. It read simply:

By order of Caesar Lucius, Imperator of The Legion,

All hostile action against the New California Republic is to halt immediately. Any who violate this order will be punished with the lash and the cross. Maintain defensive positions.

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

Titus Crassus, inside The Gourmand

The message had been disseminated quickly, and soon Titus himself had received a copy of it all the way in Vegas. The orders were clear, and Caesar's word was law.

"I request the floor once more," Titus said, raising a hand, "All military actions between the NCR and Legion have been halted. A state of armistice has been declared by General Shu and Caesar. Delegates, with this turn of events I propose we adjourn this meeting and return home to our respective states. Furthermore, I propose that we reconvene in one months time to negotiate the full and lasting peace terms that will ensure stability in the West. If there are no objections....I will take my leave."

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

Rose/Longfellow

“I’m sorry for your loss”, Castner said uncertainly. He decided to risk a question. “What were these synths to you? Why would they all join the cult”.

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

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

She turned back to looked at the dead cultist lying before her,

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

Rose then stood up, wiped her eyes and sighed,

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

----

“And not just the cult, an off shoot faction group.” James replied before turning to Longfellow “During the fight that one there.” James said as he pointed to the cultist he’d partly melted with the plasma bolt “declared that Atom is a false god and that someone or something called the Mother preserves this island and its people”

“Any idea what or who they might be?”

"Well now..." Longfellow said as he thoughtfully scratched his chin, "The only thing I can think of is that crazy spirit those Children of Atom fruitcakes used to go on about. Their missionaries would always go on and on about the 'Mother of The Fog'. Not sure if this 'Mother' is the same one, but I guess it could be. The cultists don't look like the children at all though. For one thing...they've got full heads of hair..."

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Dr. Arthur West - Salem Clinic

With the fighting seemingly done, Arthur crawled out from the storage space he'd been taking cover in and examined the damage. The Deathclaw had finally been killed and he was surprised to find a mutant now standing in his clinic holding an unconscious Steve. He froze for a brief moment when he saw the hulking green humanoid but quickly regained himself.

Another non-aggressive mutant? He thought to himself. No wait...

Unlike the previous mutant he'd come across in Salem, Rook he believed was his name, this was was different. It wasn't one of his. This mutant must have been created with a different strain of FEV. The physiological characteristic were all distinct from Commonwealth mutants that had been created by Bioscience. Perhaps to the untrained eye the mutants might look the same, but there were indeed visible differences.

He continued watching the mutant as the lumbering mass of muscle picked up the ghoul, evidently having been his companion, and then just simply walked out. Arthur stood gawking out the door for a couple minutes, the wheels in his head turning rapidly thinking up new theories as to where the mutant might have originated from, when his thoughts were interrupted by Frieda,

“Thanks for visiting! Have a fantabulous-fucking day!” She called out. Arthur looked over to her with a puzzled expression.

“Sorry, I just…” Frieda blushed, again. “Sorry.”

"Its quite alright," He said, "Its been.....well I was going to say 'stressful', but doesn't really cover today's events very well....I err....Frieda?" He realized Frieda had begun changing her shirt and immediately looked away with a slightly reddened face.

“Well, that’s a little better, hm?" She said finally, "Can I help you with anything?”

Arthur opened one of his eyes tentatively, before opening the other. He re-composed himself and adjusted his glasses,

"Uh, well yes actually," He said, clearing his throat, "I don't suppose you'd be willing to go out and see who might need medical attention? And help them to the clinic if they need assistance of course. I'll begin treating Steve as best I can and then start on anyone else who might need help. Afterwards I'd like to have a good look at one or all of those Deathclaws...if possible..." He pondered aloud, "I've just...well...I've never seen one before...in the flesh that is.."

Hooded Figure - Crater House

"What is your name, visitor? Where are you come from? And why have you come to this congregation?"

"I'm a humble servant of our lord, just as you are holy Inquisitor," The hooded man replied. He turned his ragged head and looked up at Ian with glowing eyes, "I'm a wandering holy man to some: a demon to others. The truth is I simply serve the will of Atom, preach to those who would listen, and chastise those who might offend. I've gone by a number of different names in my long years, but you may call me Zhelk if you wish."

Zhelk got up from his seat and stood before the Inquisitor, leaning on his staff for support. Hunched and malformed, he was an embodiment of decay and a conduit for the glow. Even as he stood there, radiation quite literally emitted from him, and especially from the spiked censer attached to his staff.

"I've come here because Atom has led me here. He has shown me visions of a town in need of Atom's guidance. Of an ancient darkness that lurks among the unwitting and a fell shadow that threatens to engulf them all should it be allowed to. We must lead the people of Salem to Atom's holy glow brother, and thereby save them from the evil that dwells among them."

Zhelk began pacing back and forth, his censer swinging ominously as he did so, and the room itself seemed to glow brighter with radioactivity,

"Yes, it us up to us. Don't you see?" He muttered, "Atom's chosen. Atom's children. The glow must pierce the dark and thereby shine through to the outer void. The void beyond the stars...yes...yes.."

The tone of his voice became quickened, almost frantic,

"The great enemy has revealed itself. The great deceiver...that eldritch abomination and the hated foe of our Lord! Ug-Qualtoth!"

After uttering the name, Zhelk smashed his staff hard against the floor, and a great wave of radiation burst from him, illuminating the entire house like a beacon. Afterwards, Zhelk breathed heavily and calmed himself. He leaned against his staff as if clutching it for dear life.

"Forgive me," He said, "But Atom's words come through me like a tempest sometimes. Its difficult to control: a curse in many ways. I would very much like to visit Salem soon brother. We must do Atom's will. Convert those willing to listen and watch for the right signs. Will you join me in this? You and all in this congregation?"

War Never Changes

@NecroKnight

Legio I Arizona Camp

A watchful vigil had been established outside Lucius's tent, as the Legion waited with baited breath to hear news of their Caesar's condition. Crimson cloaked Praetorians guarded the tent's entrance carefully, allowing no-one but Caesar's wife and the Legate in. Whispers among the top officers and Centurions of in the camp had begun to circulate about succession and the possibility that their leader could be departing this world at any time. Plans would need to be made and orders carried out swiftly and decisively to prevent any trouble. The Legion could ill-afford a dispute over leadership at this time.

With no heir to Caesar immediately present, most had begun to look to Legate Aurelius as the second most senior member of Caesar's inner circle. He was the natural choice. Others, however, advocated for Vulpes Inculta, but as he was still far away and deep in NCR territory, he was not in a position to defend a claim or speak for himself. Little thought was given to Caesar's potential widow. It was, however, agreed that she would not be remarried, out of respect to Caesar. Normally a Legion woman of her high standing would be made a Priestess of Mars and live out the rest of her days as an honored member of that virtuous sisterhood. Her status as a New Canaanite, however, was problematic to that end. She would need to return to her people in Zion, it was finally decided, and remain there instead.

Hannah, for her part, chose to remain silent about one important detail that no-one but she, her husband, and the examining doctor had known. She was pregnant. While this fact might make a substantial portion of the Legion rally around Caesar's true-born heir, others would see it as a problem to be removed entirely. Her husband had not yet formally named his unborn son as his heir, and so some would undoubtedly dispute the claim, especially if she, a New Canaanite and his mother, were to be so influential on him. In fact, even if the Legion were to submit whole-heatedly to her unborn child now, by the time he'd grown to adulthood, it was quite likely he would be taken away from her so as to be groomed for command by individuals with their own agenda. She couldn't allow that to happen, nor would she or her child be some kind of puppet in the game of succession that was to follow. She would return to Zion and birth the child in secret, and raise him there. Her own people would her keep the secret.

"I hear Caesar breathes his last..."

"The cowardly President shot him many times. It is only by the mercy of Father Mars that he did not die sooner."

"Then is the Legate now Caesar?"

"Not yet. But it seems only a matter of time."

Sitting outside the tent, Hannah heard the nervous whispers of the Legionaries. She hated them for speaking of her husband so callously, but she also understood their fears. These men were veterans who'd seen the Legion nearly fall before. The question of who would lead them next, and to what sort of leader that person would be, was understandably an important one. Legionaries lived and died by the will of their Caesar.

"I'll hear no more talk of it!" The voice of Aurelius cut the air as the imposing Legate strode out of his own tent and towards Caesar's. A small retinue of Legion officers followed him. It wasn't hard to determine what exactly they'd been discussing.

Hannah lifted her head as the Legate strode past and towards the Praetorians guarding the entrance to the grand tent. He whispered something to one of them and then turned his attention to Hannah,

"I've followed Caesar from Flagstaff to Denver. I've bled with him. He is my brother by virtue of honor if not blood. Whatever the outcome, you will be safe."

She merely nodded in reply. The Legate's words, while meant to be comforting, undercut a hard truth. The Legion was still The Legion. And there were undoubtedly some that would seek her as some sort of trophy. The widow of Caesar, however sacrilegious it might be, was a tempting prize to be won. Indeed, she caught more than one in the cadre of officers following The Legate eyeing her with something that could only be described as hunger.

Hannah closed her eyes and sent up another silent prayer and hoped against hope that it might be answered. There was still much Lucius had to do, both as a father and husband, and as a leader. She didn't approve of bargaining with The Lord, but here and now she promised a great many things if her husband might yet be delivered. One thing in particular she promised above all else, and swore the most sacred oath that it would be done if her prayer might only be answered.

A sudden commotion from the tent caught her attention. Several of the Praetorians had begun backing away, and she saw both the Legate and his retinue staring now too. She soon saw what had drawn their attention so raptly. The weakened, pale, but alive form of Lucius standing outside the tent. Both the Praetorians the surrounding Legionaries immediately kneeled in reverence.

"Caesar," Aurelius whispered, and he too fell to his knees, "Thanks be to Mars, you are alive!"

Hannah tore through the humbled throng of legionaries and ran at her husband, throwing her arms around him. She said nothing, but simply wept joyfully,

"Yes...thanks be to Mars," Lucius said. His hand crept over the wooden cross that Hannah had placed around his neck, and he gave his wife a knowing, and perhaps confused, look. Hannah responded by quickly tucking it underneath his shirt and ensuring that his soldiers would not see.

"Send couriers to all my commanders," Lucius began as he turned to the Legate. His voice was soft and tired, but it has lost none of its authority, "Tell them Caesar lives. Let there be no doubt."

"Caesar!" Aurelius responded, as he drew his gladius. This was quickly followed by others doing the same. A cry of "Caesar! Caesar!" Quickly rang throughout the camp.

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

Caesar's Tent - Sometime Later

"There can be no doubt Caesar. The NCR has dissolved the former government of President Kimball and forged a new order in its place," Legate Aurelius reported swiftly, as Lucius sat brooding in his fur-lined 'throne' that was topped with spears and draped with crimson banners behind an oaken desk, "Now should be the time we strike. While their government is in disarray. If we attack now, we might scatter the cowards to the winds."

"Who leads the NCR now?" Lucius asked.

"General Lee Shu of the NCR is who announced the new administration. Its likely he has taken Kimball's place as the de-facto leader at least for the time being."

"General Shu? I've heard of him," Lucius nodded, "Odd that a General is leading this transition in a system that they claim is a democracy"

"We believe the NCR is under some form of martial law for the moment. Whether they've officially announced it or not."

Lucius remained silent for several moments, considering his next moves carefully. After a time, he raised his head and turned to Hannah, who was seated off to the side,

"My Legate urges me to war," He began, "What counsel would you give?"

Surprised at the question, Hannah lifted her head and stood up, walking over to where Lucius was seated. The Legate seemed confused by Caesar's request, but otherwise said nothing. He could tell very well that Caesar had not intended the question as a joke.

"Offer peace," She replied, "Do what they would never expect you to do. Kimball is dead, and he claimed his assault on The Legion was an act of self-defense. Those who believed Kimball will expect you to march on the NCR and torch and burn everything in your path."

"I did consider it," Lucius remarked slyly.

"..prove them wrong and Kimball the fool. You've crushed his army and sent the rest of his soldiers scurrying across the Texan border. If you attack, you will become the enemy: the hated adversary in the President's place. You prove that Kimball was right about you. Allies of the NCR will use that as justification to continue the war. But if you make peace...you show the opposite. Kimball was the aggressor, not you. Kimball wished war: not you. Perhaps you can leverage that to your advantage."

The Legate was aghast, but Lucius merely nodded.

"I would have to agree with my wife Aurelius. I think she makes a fair point."

"Make peace with the NCR? After they attacked? We should kill them, take their women and children as slaves and burn every city in sight. The eyes of Mars would look shamefully down on us otherwise..."

"Perhaps that it what Edward would have done, but I have something else in mind. The Legion cannot survive as it is. There must be changes, and they will start here and now. We need to illustrate that intent quite clearly, and I can think of no better way to do so. I will draft the letter myself, and I want our best Frumentarii to ensure that it gets into the hands of General Shu himself. He's a soldier, not a politician playing at being one like Kimball was. Perhaps we might find common ground there..."

-------

Letter Contents:

To General Lee Shu of the NCR,

General, no doubt you are reading this message with suspicion. You have no reason to trust me anymore than I have reason to trust you. Instead, I appeal to you as a fellow soldier and commander. Cease this senseless war. It was Kimball who brought us down this insane path. He claimed that I was the great enemy to be destroyed in the west, and his ill-advised crusade cost his life along with those of many of his soldiers.

My Legion is not the Legion of Edward Sallow. I will prove that to you here and now with an offer that Edward would have never considered.
Peace. I propose the following terms for a general armistice:

-All hostilities between The NCR and Legion, and all affiliated mercenaries and allied nations, will halt immediately.

-Legion forces under the command of Vulpes Inculta, will withdraw from their raids on NCR home territories without further incident and return to Arizona.

-NCR prisoners captured by Legion forces at the Battle of Phoenix will be allowed to return home in separate waves. With the first wave being released four days hence from the time of agreement to these terms. The last wave will be release no later than a month from now. Until such time as they are permitted to leave, they will be kept in as comfortable conditions as can be managed with ample food and water stocks. A single NCR officer of sufficient rank will be allowed to inspect the conditions of the soldiers during this time. The officer will also be allowed to return with correspondence the prisoners may wish to send back home.

-Any captured soldier or officer of the NCR that accepts a formal offer of enrollment in Caesar's Legion will not be hindered in doing so and will be released immediately from captivity. Those that refuse will be allowed to continue their captivity until such time as they are released as outlined above.

-As an act of good faith, and representative of its new government, The NCR will issue a formal condemnation of former President Kimball's actions to both its people, and the assembled delegates of the Vegas convention.

-A more permanent and lasting treaty will be signed at a later date. Negotiations for the stipulations of this treaty will take place at a second formal gathering of nations.

I await your reply.

Signed,

Lucius, Caesar of The Legion

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Dr. Arthur West - Salem Clinic

On the second floor of the clinic, Arthur was running a few tests on the sample of the mystery substance that Freida had brought to him. With the rudimentary equipment he had available, it was taking a bit longer than it should and more a game of trial and error than anything.

"Hmm...interesting," He muttered as he examined a small droplet of the substance under a microscope. Suddenly he heard a voice from below call out,

"You should come down here. Uh, bring some extra gloves."

"Frieda?" He called back, concerned, "Why what is it?"

Not waiting for a response, he quickly got up, grabbed a spare pair of sterile gloves and came down the staircase to find a mess. A trail of blood led from the clinic door to a bed where a ghoul lay dismembered and quite clearly in shock due to bloodloss, barely clinging onto life.

"Good lord, what happened?" Arthur asked. And received only some vague information in response that there had apparently been another attack on the outskirts of town: a caravan this time. Arthur shook his head in dismay, as much a sign of pity as denial. He knew the prognosis immediately.

"There's nothing to be done I'm afraid...if there were even the slightest chance of saving him, he'd required advanced medical technology and supplies that I couldn't even remotely hope to have here. Best I can do is give him a shot of Med-X to dull the pain a bit and ease his passing."

Arthur recalled that ghouls had a far different physiology than humans and that chem doses required to affect them could often be much higher than that normally required. A single shot might not be enough...but he couldn't spare more than that. He needed what supplies he had for the living, not the dead. It was a harsh choice, but these were the sorts of horrible dilemmas the surface-world forced on you.

Just as Arthur had begun to turn around to fetch a syringe, he heard a cacophony of crazed shouts coming from outside. Shouts of "DEATHCLAW!" and "RUN! RUN!".

"Deathclaw?" Arthur's eyes grew wide, "But how.."

He peeked out one of the old church windows and saw the monstrous creature chasing Brandy as they both ran past,

"HOLY!" Arthur cried out as stumbled backwards from the window and fell to the floorboards. He glasses went skating across the wooden boards, but thankfully didn't break. He was damn near blind now however, and began desperately searching around the floor for his spectacles. He'd never seen a deathclaw before up close before, and only heard stories from the various settlers and caravaners who told tales of the creatures. His hands were shaking with fear as they patted around the ground: it was like a monster out of some horrid nightmare had charged into Salem,

"How heck can we stop that thing!?" He yelled desperately.

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

OOC: So to sum up the final rolls, in Round 3 literally everyone rolled a miss (lol). And in Round 4 both Captain James and Castner rolled a 6 for a critical hit. Which ended the fight immediately. I gotta say that was a hell of an interesting roll set.

The Gang vs. The Cultists - Final round

Both of the James's continued to exchange fire with the cultists, ducking and firing between hails of gunfire. Bits and pieces of wood flew from tree trunks and the sounds of bullets ricocheting off the metal and bolts of laser and plasma scorching the carcass of the vertbird could be heard around the clearing. As the battle continued, forcing each side to reload, Captain James shouted out from behind cover,

"Atom has abandoned you, Surrender and you may live to regain his favour!"

"Atom is a false god!" One of the cultists shouted back, "The Mother preserves this island and its people!"

And the firefight continued. Finally, Castner was able to get a bead on one of the cultists, and once they popped out above cover, opened fire. A laser bolt tore into his upper chest and he collapsed instantly. Seeing their comrade fall, the remaining cultist lets out a cry of frustration and anger and began firing wildly, with reckless abandon. The last cultist moved out from behind cover and the Captain was able to put a plasma bolt into them as well. The cultist let out a screech of pain as a large chunk of their body began to liquefy from the heat of the bolt. And they collapsed to the ground dead.

Looking over, the group could see that the mini-gulper had finally expired as well. The creature breathed its last minutes ago. In the midst of the fight, it had managed to crawl over to the body of its former master, and nuzzled itself against her before passing.

Just as the group are getting their bearings and realizing the toll has wrought on them both physically and mentally, they hear a rustling in the nearby foliage.

Suddenly, two more armed cultists burst from the undergrowth. The two of them take the group by completely by surprise and charge Castner and Williams with pole hooks. Just as they are about to reach them, gunshots ring out and both collapse instantly. The group turns to find Longfellow, Rose, and a small group of Harbor folk coming out of the treeline, having obviously heard the gunshots and came to investigate. Smoke drifts from the barrel of Longfellow's lever-action,

"Not as spry as I used to be, but hell if I still got it...." he mutters with a grin, still half drunk but having apparently slept off at least some of his stupor.

"Oh lord is that...." one of the townsfolk says as they realize who Corrine is kneeling next to.

Longfellow realizes it as well, and carefully walks over and crouches down next to Corrine,

"She's gone Corrine....best leave er' be. We'll give her a proper Harbor funeral. Whatever she became...she at least she still deserves that. Come on now lass....lets get you up..." Longfellow offers her his hand.

As some of the other harbor-folk tend to Steve and check to see if both Castner and Williams are alright, the Railroad agent, Rose, begins inspecting the bodies of the dead cultists. She seems concerned about something after having seen Avery's body. Slowly, she begins pulling the mask off the first cultist she finds. Her eyes widen,

"No...." She murmurs.

Frantically, she runs over to the next cultist, and likewise pulls their mask off,

"NO!" She shouts loudly. Her cry now garners the attention of the harbor folk.

She sprints to the third cultist, and nearly tears the mask off revealing the face of a young woman. Her eyes widen once more and she then charges over to bodies of the two cultists that Longfellow had just felled, ripping both of their white masks from their faces.

"NOO!" She screams, and collapses to the forest floor sobbing.

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

OOC: Just for a refresher since its been awhile, Rose is an escaped synth turned Railroad agent.

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

OOC: Just to be clear, its one roll per round for each person. Irrespective of the number of shots. That's just to keep things simple.

Cultists vs. The Gang Round 2

In her grief, Corrine had become dulled to raging battle around her, instead kneeling before the body of her fallen former friend and sobbing uncontrollably. The bloodied cultist with the meathook raised his weapon, ready to drive the hooked weapon into the woman's skull, but hesitated when he saw Corrine's display of grief over the dead Avery. Instead of delivering the blow, he simply passed Corrine by and made his way to attack one of the other members of the group in a strange display of mercy, or perhaps, something else.

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Castner raised his rifle and fired two shots at one of the cultists armed with the radium rifles. The cultist had sought shelter behind a piece of scrap metal from the crashed vertibird, and the shots bounced harmlessly off the metal plating. The rest of his shots kept the cultists pinned down and away from Corrine, but like the meathook wielding man, the rifle armed cultists ignored the weeping woman. She was like an island in a raging storm of battle. (OOC: Roll result: miss)

Captain James returned fire with his plasma defender, one of the shots striking the meathook cultist, who had proceeded to charge at him after he'd passed by Corrine. His bolt struck the cultist in chest and the man collapsed instantly to the ground. (OOC: Hit. Meathook cultist killed).

Steve's grappling with the mini-gulper ended with him emptying two shots into the creature point-blank, impossible to miss at such a range, the creature let go of his arm: which was now bloodied from the creature's surprisingly strong bite. The mini-gulp let out a yelp of pain and curled up on the forest floor, it was breathing heavily and clearly close to death. Before the creature had bit him, he'd fired at one of the cultists coming out of the vertibird, and had managed to hit him. However, the cultist was not downed, perhaps driven on by some chemical enhancement or nothing more than sheer crazed zealotry, and despite the wound, seemed still able to fire his weapon. (OOC: Hit on one of the radium rifle cultists).

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The two remaining radium rifle armed cultists return fire, popping up from the various bits of cover they are weaving between to take shots at the group.

One takes aim at James Castner and fires quickly, missing the Brotherhood soldier completely in his haste.

The second takes a shot at Steve, firing a round and striking him squarely in a non-lethal area (OOC: Your choice Tib). Radiation from the bullet permeates his body. This, combined with the wound from the gulper, causes Steve to collapse from his injuries. (OOC: Steve is downed).

(OOC: I rolled to see who would be the targets of the cultists return fire, and James C and Steve were the two picked. So Captain James sort of wins his run/doge roll by default I guess).

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

OOC: Roll results for group, James C: miss on gulper, Enclave James: hit on priestess, Steve: critical hit on priestess.

The Gang Shoots the Cultists

After some debate, the group ultimately decided to attack the cultists, using the element of surprise to get an advantage over them. Steve and Captain James took aim at the apparent leader, and after a few tense moments of breathless silence, opened fire. James's shot hits first, a dead shot right to the leader's left calve. Almost immediately afterwards, Steve's shot hits the priestess directly in the head, cracking her makeshift headdress and causing the leader to slump to the forest floor below. As she falls, the broken headdress rolls off her, revealing an unfortunate sight indeed. The listless stare of a familiar face greets them.

Avery.

Spooked by the shots, the mini-gulper jumps away from Avery's body, and James C misses his shot only by a hair. The frightened creature hides behind the corpse of its former dead master, and bares an angry wide-mouthed snarl at them.

“THIS IS THE UNITED STATED MILITARY, SURRENDER NOW OR YOU WILL FIRED UPON.”

The remaining cultists turn to the dead body of the High-Priestess Avery and then to the surrounding foliage, from where the gunshots originated. Shocked by the sudden attack, the cultists stare for a few moments before their expressions turn to rage. The words of the Enclave officer are meaningless to them, as is the notion of the United States Army. All they feel is anger. (OOC: Failed to roll for speech.)

"MURDERERS!" One shouts. Immediately the cultists draw their weapons. Two of the cultists produce radium rifles from their flowing robes, while the third grips a meathook in his right hand. They return fire and attack.

Corrine jumps into action and attacks one of the enemies before them, giving them a deep gash with her weapon of choice. (OOC: Either the cultists or the gulper, doesn't matter. I'm counting the same amount of HP for them. Its a hit but not a critical hit).

The cultists themselves then attack.

One of the cultists with a radium rifle fires at Castner, grazing him with a bullet (OOC: Hit)

Another fires at Captain James, but the bullet goes wide and misses completely. (OOC: miss)

The third cultist rushes at Corrine with his meat hook, slashing at her with it, but she is able to swiftly dodge the attack. (OOC: miss)

Finally, the mini-gulper rushes at Steve. The creature is surprisingly quick and agile, and he's unable to get a bead on it before it jumps up and sinks its teeth hard into his arm (OOC: Critical hit)