Andronicus23

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Dr. Arthur West - Salem Diner
"Yes, agreed doctor. It hasnt been used for some time, but should be well supplied. After all, it was part of the contingency plan should anything go wrong. Let just hope we fin the hatch leading down to the safeho..."

Arthur turned to look at whatever had caught Rick's attention, and saw the great green bulk of a super-mutant striding through the doorway of the partially ruined diner.

“Doctor I'm about to leave to check and see if there are still supplies where my caravan got hit. Is there any medical supplies you need specifically that I can get for you?”

Rick looked up at the mutant, and he seemed shocked by his intelligence, "Well...I'm sure the good doctor is in short supply of pretty much any and all medicine... I'm sorry, I don't believe we have met, name is Rick..."

As Rick introduced himself, Barney interrupted them, "Wanted to let you all know that tonight we'll have a town meeting. I think much needs to be discussed, considering today's events...I think the Inn is a good place, two hours from now."

After Barney made his announcement, Arthur turned back to Gorge and nodded, "Like Rick said, anything you find would be of use. The townspeople were able to donate some supplies earlier, but I fear we can never have enough at the rate we are going. This town seems to be a hotbed of trouble. Please take anything you can spare to the church and Frieda and I can sort it later."

Once Gorge had left, Arthur once more addressed Rick, lowering his voice so that others wouldn't hear,

"That's the mutant I mentioned earlier," He whispered, "He's far more intelligent than Rook even, and he claims to have been a member of The Brotherhood of Steel at one point. Not sure I fully believe that, but he's certainly a character to watch out for. He's been helpful so far, but he's also something of an unknown quantity. I've never seen a mutant of his like before..."

"Also..." he continued, "Perhaps we should wait until after the meeting to visit the safehouse? Once we see what this town meeting is about, we can head there right away and assess what we can use. Let me know when you're ready to go."

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Dr. Arthur West - Salem Diner

“I knew there was a location of an old SRB hideout around this area. It’s nearby, in fact its located across the way, in the old building. Per the specs, there should be a terminal, supplies, maybe a few guns, and security shutters. It was meant as a safe house for back when we had non-synth research patrols.”

Arthur's eyes lit up at the mention of the SRB safehouse, and he excitedly clasped Rick on the shoulders,

"Excellent. That could be just what we need. Supplies and weapons we could use to help defend the town and perhaps even a secure way to contact our superiors. We'll have to come up with a good excuse as to how we procured the supplies of course...but we can worry about that later."

Arthur began impulsively pacing, considering just what to do and how to best word his request to ensure that The Directorate would not only take notice, but grant them request for materials they needed, even when The Institute's own resources were, at this time, limited. He also pondered how might be the best way to use the supplies already in the bunker without arousing any suspicion.

"Yes...yes that should work," he muttered to himself, before looking up at Rick, "Alright, we shouldn't waste any time. Would you be able to lead me to the shelter right away? The sooner we pursue this, the better I feel."

War Never Changes

Lancer-Sergeant Robert Kyle, Markle Police Station
"With pleasure...I'm Knight-Captain Murphy, by the way...but you can call me Alex if you like."

Robert accepted the weapon with hesitation, happy to finally have the cold steel of a laser rifle back in his hands, but still unsure of what to make of the assaultron speaking with the voice of a human man. And why was it calling itself a Knight-Captain?

"Good to meet you...uhh sir," He replied, as he inspected the weapon before turning back to him, "I'm glad you came when you did. I was beginning to think these savages were going to get the better of me. I don't exactly know the full story of what's going on here, but I know there's wasteland savages to be killed and people to protect. That's enough for me for now. Lead on."

Robert followed closely behind the robot as it...or rather, Knight-Captain Murphy, led him through the winding streets of the town. Off in the distance, he could hear the sounds of an intense firefight coming from the center of the raider held area, and he guessed that this might be where Brotherhood forces were making an assault.

"If you do might a question or two," Robert asked the robot as he hopped over a broken piece of masonry that had fallen into the street, "What exactly is The Brotherhood doing here? Your objectives I mean? Is there some sort of technology that you're here to collect?"

"Our Mission?", Murphy said, "To reduce the crossing points for vehicles...and logistics...across the Wabash river to one. The strategic goal is to pin as many of them as we can to this spot, until we are in position to annihilate them."

"Reduce crossing points? This is a defensive operation then?" Robert turned as the sounds of several more explosions echoed around the town, "Doesn't exactly seem that way...what about you then, are you robotic or a brainbot of some type? We've had robots serve alongside Brotherhood Knights and Paladins back East, but I can't say I've seen one quite like you before. You seem...quite intelligent."

When an answer from the robot wasn't forthcoming, Robert stowed his curiosity for the time being and focused on the surroundings. He guessed that the Knight-Captain...or whatever it was, wasn't here to play a game of twenty questions with him. It had a specific mission to do.

More explosions from the town rung out, and Robert stopped briefly to turn to see a small fireball in the distance. Whatever was happening over there....it was obviously too much for the raiders.

Highway 3 Bridge, North end

As they approached the bridge, Robert saw a Midwestern Knight standing guard by the bridge and awaiting their arrival.

"Welcome, Brother", Harkness said to Kyle as he switched his laser rifle to his left hand and offered his right to the man, "I am Knight-Sergeant Harkness...I command the force at this position." He gestured at the bridge behind him then continued. "We hold the bridge, so you're safe from this point. Please lead your charges across quickly...we have this bridge wired for demolition and we'll be dropping it into the river once you, and Delta squad behind you, are across."

"Thank you Knight," Robert replied, and returned the soldiers handshake, "Glad to meet you. I can't say I know where we're going, so I'll leave it to uhh..the Knight-Captain here," He gestured towards the Assaultron, "To keep leading the way. I'll be glad to get across the river and leave this wretched town quickly."

The sudden sounds of cawing caused Robert to turn his gaze upwards to see a murder of crows circling overhead in an odd pattern. He frowned, had those damn birds followed them all the way from the Police Station? He shook his head in disbelief.

SRB Situation Room, The Institute

"Alright people, what have we got?" The stern voice of Dr. Alana Secord was directed at the small team of SRB agents manning the terminals and monitors in front of her. Images of the town of Markle as well as several live feeds of the city flashed across the screens. One of them tracked the Brotherhood group that was now crossing the bridge out of town.

"Watchers have been deployed across the town and we're monitoring the on-going military operations there...Brotherhood forces appear to be marshaling for a potential assault south of the Wabash river," One of the agents reported.

"And the Synth?"

"Successfully made contact with a Midwestern Brotherhood contingent a little over twenty minutes ago. It appears they're bringing it south along with a group of civilians."

"Good news, have we managed to get any data yet?"

"The feed is a little choppy...the connection isn't as strong as we would like, given the distance involved, but we're collecting all we can. The Synth is sending back some confused analysis on the robot it encountered. Its treating the construct like a human, but isn't convinced that's what it is."

"An AI System?"

"Maybe..." The agent replied, "But it seems far more advanced than anything The Brotherhood has built....or tolerated...before."

"Could be a brainbot," Another agent replied, "Or a cyborg of some type."

"Keep monitoring the data and lets see if we can figure it out for certain. I want to know exactly what we're dealing with here...the entire point of this operation is to gather as much information about the Midwestern Chapter as we can. If The Brotherhood has advanced AI...I want to know everything about it."

"Yes Ma'm."

War Never Changes

snip - Double post

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

Longfellow - Vertibird Crash

“Maybe we could make some kind of sleigh to put the crates on?”

"Aye, seems like a good plan," Longfellow nodded, "The townsfolk can start stripping the bird and make some kind of sled from the parts. Ain't got to go far...just far enough to get us back to town. Don't know what to do 'bout the power armor, but I'll leave that to you two," He said, pointing to the two James', "Lets get this done and get this done quick. I don't want to be out here any longer than we have to. Them cultists might be back any moment now."

As the townsfolk went to work, Longfellow walked back over to the body of Avery and knelt down while holding his rifle by the barrel and propping it stock-first in the ground,

"What the hell got into you Avery?" He asked to the corpse.

"That's not Avery," Rose muttered as she walked by, "Hasn't been for a long time."

Longfellow furrowed his brow at the Railroad Agent but didn't reply, unsure of what she meant. He guessed it had something to do with this 'Synth' nonsense.

He ignored her and looked up at the treeline surrounding them, the feeling of being watched was hard to shake. For all they knew, the cultists could be on their way right this moment. Longfellow stood back up and glanced over at the other corpses, particularly those belonging to the Brotherhood.

"Odd ain't it," He said, to no-one in particular, "Avery had them cover the bodies. Almost like they was getting ready to bury them. Didn't loot them or anything...odd bit of respect to show your enemies..." He shook his head, "Guess it don't matter though. Now we gotta bury em'."

"Come on," He said, urging the townsfolk to move quicker, "Lets get a move on."

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

Far Harbor - Returning from the Scavenging Mission

Working quickly as they could, and with the townsfolk's help, the group managed to scavenge what they could from the vertibird and take Avery's body along with them. The going was slow at first, but once they got back into the ruins of the old town, they breathed a sigh of relief: glad to be free of the oppressive foliage. Pretty soon, they were dragging their loot back through the gates of Far Harbor and into the center of town.

Just about everyone in Far Harbor came out to see the triumphant return, although their mood became much more somber when they noticed Avery's body.

As the group began to unload the gear and supplies, one of the Hull watchman gave a shout, and pointed to The Fog.

"Something's coming!" He yelled out.

Looking out towards the ruins, a single light bobbed and weaved through the old town and towards The Hull. As the light grew closer, it became clear that it was coming from a lantern. The lantern, unsurprisingly, was held by someone. A cultist wearing some type of painted white armor and cloak stepped out into a clearing in the fog. The face of the figure was covered, not by the usual masks, but by a helmet. Looking closely, military-minded members of the group would likely recognize the armor as being that of pre-war marines.

The figure spoke with a voice that was filled with both conviction and authority,

"Hold your fire," the armored cultist asked, a male voice audible through the helmet, "I'm not here to fight. I'm here to retrieve the bodies of our fallen brothers and sisters. The one you know as 'Avery', we know by another name. She is not the friend you once knew, I'm sorry to say. Captain Avery was dead long before today. The woman you killed...should be with her family, not with you. Do us this kindness...and we will return the favor in kind."

War Never Changes

The Legion - I-70 Eastern March, Near Burlington

After passing the border outpost, the marching legions of Legate Aurelius continued onward down the old I-70 interstate towards Burlington. They kept a steady, disciplined pace, and the vanguard of the legion expedition was already approaching the outskirts of the town. At the head of the column, Aurelius and a disguised Vulpes Inculta observed as they past farmland and wasteland homesteads, which were sparse at first, but became more frequent as they came closer to Burlington. As they past by, curious Midwesterners approached the marching column to catch a glimpse of the line of crimson legionaries and brightly colored horsemen. Some remained quiet and merely watched with curiosity, others cheered their arrival, but none appeared overtly hostile.

"An odd change of pace isn't it?" Aurelius said as he turned to Vulpes, "To be welcomed into a region with open arms, rather than being shunned as conquerors."

"And they never seem to understand when they're conquered," Vulpes replied, "Marching with one eye on the road and another on the hills around you leaves one feeling remarkable less hospitable to the populace."

"Well this time we're guests, not invaders. Lucius charged me with the war in the east and to represent the standard of Caesar to the Midwest. I will show Barnaky that the Legion is not just a buffer to the NCR or a band of untrained tribals. They'll be no troubles with the local populace, and any of my legionaries that starts it will be up on a cross before nightfall." Aurelius's fist clenched around the reigns of his horse as he uttered the threat.

"None would dare shame Caesar in the lands of our allies. Of that you can be sure. And once we reach the front lines...."

"We'll show this 'Cult' no mercy. They'll be eradicated. Each and every one of them. Lanius was called the Monster of the East. I will show them that I am the Monster of the West."

"Machetes, spikes, and crosses then," Vulpes chuckled, "Like the old days. Between you and me...I missed it."

The galloping hooves of a horse coming down the road from Burlington broke the two men's conversation as one of the Legion's outriders rode up to Aurelius and offered a sharp salute,

"Ave Legatus."

"Ave Legionnaire. What is your report?"

"The Midwestern commander of the Burlington garrison offers his greetings. He bids me to inform you that they're expecting our arrival and their engineers have prepared an area for encampment with adequate water sources and sanitation. The depot is also being readied and trains can soon begin transporting men and supplies eastward."

"Excellent. We'll make our way there at once and I will order the men to construct a camp. It will take several hours for the full compliment of the column to arrive, but once the men have rested and resupplied we can begin boarding."

"I would like my Frumentarii to travel east with the first group," Vulpes offered, "Once there, we can begin properly assessing the situation."

"Agreed. See that its done Vulpes. Legionary, inform the commander that I would be glad to receive him in my tent if he would like to discuss the logistics. Otherwise, thank him for his assistance."

"At once Legatus!"

----

Lancer-Sergeant "Robert Kyle" - Markle, Indiana

Captured, by raider savages.

Robert lambasted himself for his failure. The Elder had charged him with making contact with the Midwestern chapter, and he'd been captured by raiders. Shortly after he'd touched down outside of town, he'd been rushed by large group of the psychopaths. Apparently they'd seen his vertibird and prepared an ambush. Knowing he could never fend off such a force on his own, he'd activated the vertibird's self-destruct mechanism to prevent such technology from falling into their hands. He'd been prepared to do the same to himself, but had been captured before he could carry that out.

Now he'd been thrown into some godforsaken rusted prison in the middle of some backwater raider town. The ignominy of it was not lost on him.

Caw! Caw!

Robert looked up with surprise to find a fat black crow sitting comfortably on the upper rafters of the prison.

Caw!

"Now how'd you get in here?" Robert muttered to himself as he looked up at the strange bird. The crow unnerved him for a reason that he couldn't really explain. It was just sitting there...almost like it was staring at him...judging him even. And he couldn't help but notice the usually red eyes the creature seemed to have...

Caw!

The crow quickly flew away and out a small hole in the metal roof of the building as one of the raiders came into the room.

"Like your new home, Brotherhood bitch?", the raider sneered, "Well don't get used to it....we'll be taking you to Ft Wayne soon enough, the Big Boss will no doubt have some questions for you. By the time he gets down with you, you'll wish I'd let the boys finish you."

Robert was about to reply, when he saw something behind the raider. Something that caused him to grin ever so widely. An Assaultron had appeared out of a stealth field, and quickly blasted him into oblivion. It freed the other prisoners first, before turning to him.

"You do not appear in our Codex, Brother", the Assaultron said, "Who are you?" it then added, "The short version, please...we have maybe fifteen minutes before the shit hits the fan here."

"Lancer-Sergeat Robert Kyle," Robert replied, as he stood up, "I'm with the eastern chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel. I was sent east to reconnect with our former Brothers...I'm the last survivor of a group of holdouts in The Commonwealth. Can you take me to your commanding officer?"

A Strange Visitor, 'Publick Occurrences', Diamond City - The Commonwealth

Piper looked up from her upstairs desk where she was working diligently on her next article as she heard the door swing open and close. Confused, she called out,

"Nat, is that you? I thought you wouldn't be home until later?"

There was no response, and the hairs on the back of her head began to stand up, "Nat?"

As quietly as she could, she reached for the 10mm pistol on her desk and grabbed it. She then began to head over to the stairs and carefully walked down step by step, keeping the pistol at the ready,

"Hello? Who's there?"

To her surprise, a croaky and coarse voice replied. One that sounded much like a ghoul but somehow...different,

"No need to roll out the red carpet on my account, but is a cup of tea and a fucking cigarette too much to ask for?"

As she continued down the stairs, she found a strange looking figure at the door. Dressed head to toe in an overcoat and wearing some kind of gas-mask apparatus which hid most of his face.

"Not like I expect any different. Apparently this dump of a town doesn't allow ghouls in. Hmmph. Morons. Do I look like one of those half-crazed ferals?"

"Who are you! Start talking!" Piper yelled, as she pointed her pistol at the stranger.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Lower it, now," The stranger replied, and before Piper could even react, he had a silenced 9mm pistol drawn and pointed at her, "Drop it, or I'll drop you. I don't like killing Dames, but I'll do it without a fucking second thought."

"Take off the mask...and then maybe."

"Fine. Have it your way." The stranger pulled at the breathing mask and took it off, letting it fall to the ground with a clatter, "I was getting tired of wearing that piece of crap anyway."

Piper wasn't surprised to see a ghoul staring at her, but she was surprised to find a ghoul with a full head of hair...and glasses, underneath that mask. If he was a ghoul...at least she could be reasonably sure he wasn't working for the Mayor...or The Institute.

She lowered her pistol, and the ghoul replied in-kind, "Alright....so what do you want."

"Information. That's all. And I've been led to believe you're just bird I need to see to get it."

Piper raised her eyebrows, "What sort of information?"

"I'm looking for someone...and old friend you might say...well alright not a friend. A rival. I believe you met him. He came in here himself a couple years ago...looking for someone as well. He's next on my list. Next in The Great Game. Wasn't sure he'd made it through...but now that I know he did...."

"Oh...you mean HIM," Piper replied, hardly holding back her distaste.

"Ah, so you have met. Good. Now lets just sit down and have a nice little chat. Hmm?"

"You're wasting your time. If you want to get to him. You'll never find it."

"It?"

"The Institute," Piper sneered, "That's where he is...after he abandoned us. Abandoned The Commonwealth."

"Can you blame him? The place is a hell-hole. Almost makes me wish I was back in Maryland....but don't worry, I know all about 'The Institute'. Was quite familiar with it before the war as well. I'll find it. Just tell me everything you know."

"Who...who are you?"

"The name's Desmond sweetheart. Desmond Lockheart."

War Never Changes

The Institute - Synth Retention Bureau

Director Thomas strode into the Synth Retention Bureau’s secure lab as the sliding doors hissed to a close behind him. He then continued onward down the short flight of stairs which led to the Bureau’s reclamation area. A set of empty glass holding tubes lined the small walkway that funneled to the centerpiece of the room, a neuro-matrix reconfiguration chair where Synths would be placed in order to be reprogrammed or wiped. The ‘chair’ consisted primarily of connection nodes which interfaced directly into the Synth’s spinal column, which meant the Synth would have to lay back onto these nodes in order for the connection to be made successfully and for the process to begin.

In this case, a Synth was already connected onto the chair and beginning the reprogramming procedure. Dr. Alana Secord, the newest Director for SRB following Dr. Ayo’s demotion, was standing by overseeing the process along with a Courser unit that was required to be present during reclamation and reprogramming: just in case any unexpected ‘erratic’ behavior resulted from the process, one of many such safety protocols that had been implemented following an extensive overhaul of SRB’s policies in the wake of Ayo’s demotion.

Thomas smiled as he examined the Synth attached to the chair, a grizzled looking man with scars and a patchy beard that looked exactly like a soldier who’d just crawled out of the trench after a six month stint.

“The Robotics Division outdid themselves with the physical makeup,” He said as he turned to Alana, “Exactly to specifications. Even down to the last dimple. It's hard to imagine a better rendition of a 'veteran soldier', just what I was looking for.”

“Yes…” Alana replied with a nod, “The tricky part of course, will be ensuring that we have the psychological workup of a Brotherhood soldier correct. We didn’t capture any during our conflict with them unfortunately, so we’re working off observational data only, along with your own anecdotal information of course Director.”

“It will suffice. How soon with the neuro-reconfiguration be complete?”

“Within the hour I suspect,” Alana checked the clipboard she was holding, “The armor and weapons kit that I requested produced by Facilities should be completed shortly as well. I believe it matches quite well with the equipment carried standard issue by The Brotherhood chapter that assaulted Boston.”

“If Dr. Li’s information is correct, then its unlikely the Midwestern group will recognize the difference anyway. They’ve been cut-off from contact for some time.”

Alana nodded in agreement, “In any case, the ruse will only need to hold for a short time. Once we’ve gathered enough intel about this new chapter, we can analyze the data and determine what sort of a threat, if any, they pose. With any luck perhaps we’ll get further information about other groups as well. As I understand it, this Midwestern chapter is the primary power in the central U.S. region.”

“If they’re a bridge between east and west, as I suspect they might be,” Thomas replied, “Then this could be a substantial intelligence mine. The Synths we sent to the meeting in Vegas indicated that The Brotherhood had dealings with multiple groups in several different parts of the continent. Most notably war with this ‘Cult’ group that everyone appeared to be losing their heads over. Perhaps we can finally get some detailed intel on that little mystery.”

“Robert House is included in that group of contacts, correct?”

Thomas’s look soured, “Yes...I’ve rarely had reason to doubt Robert’s judgement before...but in two centuries it's hard to say what he’s become. Either way, I can only hope his cooperation with The Brotherhood is a ruse, or perhaps he understands something that I do not about them. We’ll know soon enough.”

Footsteps down the stairs caused both Alana and Thomas to halt their conversation and turn around.

“The Bird’s prepped an’ ready to go,” Cait announced as she entered the reclamation room, “Took those damn clockwork Synths of yours long enough to get her fueled up, but she’s ready any time…..and I guess this is the lucky toaster your're sending?” She said as she looked down at the Synth.

“I wish you wouldn’t call them that…” Alana protested, “The Synths are highly complex synthetic organic constructs….hardly household appliances.”

“Tomato, to-ma-to. They aren’t human, that’s all I know. Maybe if you eggheads stopped trying to pass them off as humans, people would stop trying to break them out of here. That Railroad of yours probably wouldn’t be trying to free six foot tall spiders I bet.”

Thomas smiled, he enjoyed her somewhat...blunt opinion on matters, especially where it concerned The Institute. One lesson that The Institute had always overlooked, and thankfully his son hadn’t, was that sometimes an outside perspective was needed. Even if that outside perspective was mockery....mockery in and of itself could often reveal harsh truths.

“Unfortunately a six foot tall spider would hardly help this particular Synth’s mission my dear. While it might scare off The Railroad...I doubt The Brotherhood would be fooled into thinking that their eastern cousins had enlisted a giant mutant arachnid into their ranks. No matter how little contact they’ve had.”

“Hmm. So it’s one of those spy ones then? Suppose you’re trying to feel out this new Brotherhood group.”

“Exactly. And it needs to be a very good one if we want to ensure they're fooled enough to get the information we need.”

Suddenly, the Synth gave a jolt, and the connection nodes gradually began to withdraw from its spinal column. Alana checked the terminal readout,

“Looks like the process is complete. It should be online in 3...2...1…”

The Synths eyes sprung open and it began to stand up, unsteady at first, but the initial shock of re-initialization quickly wore off.

“Where...where am I?” The Synth said, as he looked around the room and at the strange individuals in front of him.

“Nevermind that now, do you remember who you are?” Thomas asked quickly.

“My name is...Robert Kyle. Lancer-Sergeant Robert Kyle, Brotherhood of Steel registration KT-351LS. Stationed on The Prydwen.”

“And where are you going?”

“I need to discover the whereabouts of the lost Midwestern Chapter and report the defeat of our forces in The Commonwealth.”

“And the details of the defeat?”

“Our airship was destroyed by an unknown group, possibly a local uprising, I was away on transport mission when the attack came. Communications were quickly cut-off and we lost contact with The Prydwen and all forces stationed at the airport.”

Thomas nodded in approval, “That should do it. Lets get it suited up and to the airport tarmac. J3-36: initialize shutdown.”

The Synth went limp and Alana walked over to finish her final inspection, “The memories should reset and re-initialize once J3 has left The Commonwealth. The time frame from The Brotherhood’s defeat to now will be explained by time spent with a fictitious group of hold-outs, of which ‘Robert Kyle’ will be the final survivor of. The Vertibird and his equipment has been appropriately ‘pre-worn’ as it were, to keep up appearances. Without compromising the integrity of the vertibird of course...we want him to make it west in one piece. Of course we’ll also be sending along a pod of Watchers to help keep track of J3, they should arrive shortly after the vertibird does.”

“Excellent keep me posted on any developments Alana. I’m very intrigued to see where this investigation will take us.”

“Hopefully you programmed him as a damn good pilot..” Cait quipped, “Otherwise he’s gonna be buried in a heap of fiery metal before he even gets there...”

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Dr. Arthur West - Salem Clinic

Arthur froze when the mutant began explaining the differences between the mutants of the east and his own kind, the mutants on the west coast. He was both surprised, intrigued, and more than a little disturbed at the intelligence and in-depth understanding of the FEV that Gorge was displaying. When Gorge mentioned that he believed that the Commonwealth's FEV might have been tampered with, or otherwise altered, Arthur could hardly contain his nervous apprehension.

How right you are.... Arthur mused to himself as he thought of the irony of the fact that not only was Gorge correct: but he was standing next to the very man who had helped to architect the Commonwealth strain.

“Come doctor there are still more wounded to care too, I’m not the best medic but I’ve been around long enough to know what to do as long as you tell me what to do.”

Arthur snapped out of his thoughts as he heard Gorge's voice.

"Ah of course..." He muttered, before turning back to the mutant, "Here...we need to move quickly. Let me finish stitching up Steve and then we'll move on to Brandy..."

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

After several minutes of nimble medical work, and with the help of Gorge, Arthur allowed himself a moment to breathe as he sat down in a nearby set of broken church pews. The patients had all been stabilized and bandaged or stitched up. They'd all be nursing their wounds for some time, but none of them would suffer any major long-term consequences from the injuries suffered. Not physically anyway....Arthur still had some concerns for poor Brandy's psyche, but he wasn't a psychologist and this was the wasteland. Psychological trauma was a fact of everyday life here and he had to marvel at the fact that not everyone was a walking basket case.

As Gorge passed by the pew, Arthur looked up,

"Err...thank you," he said, hesitantly, "I...appreciate the assistance." Thanking a mutant for rendering medical aid was hardly something he was used to doing, and the words came out rather muddled.

With a sigh, Arthur leaned back just as Frieda walked back through the church doors carrying a small bag in her hand. Avoiding Gorge, she made her way over to Arthur and handed it to him,

"Here. Take a break, have something to eat. I'll keep an eye on things, here."

Arthur smiled warmly, appreciating the gesture,

"Thank you Frieda, I could certainly use a break. Perhaps some fresh air could do me some good as well..."

With a nod to Frieda, he stood up, clutching the bagged lunch, and walked out of the clinic, narrowly avoiding the Deathclaw's carcass as he did so. He stared down in wonder at the size of the beast before reminding himself that he'd have to take a few flesh samples before the day was out and the creature had begun to decompose.

"After lunch of course..." He mumbled to himself.

As he stepped away from the clinic, he looked into the bag Frieda had given him and saw the sandwiches and mutfruit packed neatly within. He sat down on a nearby bench and took once of the sandwiches out. Eyeing it suspiciously, he tore off a small piece of it and gave it a taste. It wasn't....terrible, but he knew he wouldn't be able to finish it all, nor could he stomach it if he did, so he continued to nibble at it.

After a few minutes trying to get down as much as he could, he discretely pulled a small pill from his pocket and popped it into his mouth, savoring the rush of flavor from the supplement and allowing it to wash the taste of the meat away. He packed up the rest of the food back into the bag and just as he was doing so, he realized that he hadn't seen hide nor hair of Rick since the Deathclaws had attacked. Panic seized him, worried for the sake of one of two people in the town he could confide in as well as a fellow colleague and he quickly walked over to the Diner, deciding to start his search there.

He needn't have worried, as luck would have it, Rick was carefully sweeping the floor of the Diner, trying to make himself useful no doubt, and Arthur breathed a sigh of relief,

"Glad to see that abomination didn't get you as well..." Arthur said as he entered the small, now decidedly torn up, little building, "I'd never seen one before....'Deathclaws' they call them. I'd be quite content with never seeing another one in my life. I mean I had read SRB repor..."

Arthur stopped short when he noticed the young waitress coming in from the back, eyeing them with mixture of indifference and angst before giving a sigh and resuming her work,

"..the Vault Security reports on them. But...never seen one in person."

Once Betty was out of earshot, Arthur lowered his voice to a whisper and continued,

"About that...proposal I mentioned to you earlier. Now more than ever I'm convinced we should request assistance from home. Another attack like that and the clinic won't be able to handle it...even with the supplies the town donated we're going through it faster than I could ever restock normally. And if we had even one disguised Courser to help protect it....you mentioned that The Directorate would be hard pressed to agree...and you're probably right."

Arthur looked around again, making sure that no-one had come back into earshot,

"...I believe I might have something that could change their minds," he gazed back over at the church, "Something that might be an invaluable source of research. The mutant...the intelligent one...not Rook I mean the really intelligent one. Its a mutant created from the original Mariposa FEV strain perhaps...perhaps I might be able to glean some insight from him. If I can figure out a way to get him to allow me to run some tests on him..."

Nervously, Arthur bit his lip, unsure of what he was about to say, and perhaps more than a little apprehensive,

"I could restart my lab here. Far away from Vault 88. They needn't be connected at all to it, and there's plausible deniability there as well. The research potential would be enormous...and if it gets the town the supplies and protection it needs...." Arthur sighed deeply, as if resigning himself, "Then I'll do it."

War Never Changes

Caesar's Tent - Camp of Legio I Arizona

Lucius's hands trembled slightly as he quietly read the report that he'd only moments ago been handed by a courier from the east. Despite his wounds, he had risen from his rest to take the Courier's message. Standing before him was his legate, Aurelius along with recently returned head of his Frumentarii, Vulpes Inculta. The two men stood silently waiting their Caesar's command, intrigued at what could have provoked such a reaction in their Imperator: a veteran Legion soldier and officer who had seen every horrid aspect of war first-hand. A man who had been nearly at death's door only days before.

When Lucius finally put down the note, he rubbed his forehead and gave himself a few seconds of collective thought before raising his head towards his two trusted subordinates.

"Do either of you know what this is?" He asked.

"No, I don't Lucius, but I'd be grateful to know what has captured your concern so," Aurelius replied frankly. Among the company of lower officers, Aurelius would never dare to use such a familiar tone, but as they were now: friends and comrades-in-arms, it was permitted.

"Its a report from one of my Frumentarii, is it not? Follows-Chalk, the eastern scout we sent along with a contubernium of legionaries to embed themselves in The Brotherhood's vanguard and observe the war."

"Correct," Lucius replied with a nod, "But more than that, its a work of horror that only the most depraved soul could have conjured in his mind. I would have it burned if not for the simple fact that its real. Follows-Chalk is an excellent Frumentarius and experienced scout, and he does not suffer from the superstitious beliefs that plague most tribals. I do not doubt anything he says."

"So then... the rumors of the Cult were true," Vulpes said with trepidation.

Lucius nodded slowly in agreement.

"So what is our response?" Aurelius asked, stepping forward, "What will The Legion do?"

"How soon can you march?" Lucius's words came without a moment's thought.

Aurelius grinned,

"By first light."

Sometime Later - Colorado Border, Along I-70

The long column of the marching legions snaked along the old I-70 interstate, disappearing and reappearing over the meandering hills behind it while the leading vanguard approached the border and the Brotherhood outpost stationed there. Well organized and disciplined, the column marched in formation seven men abreast, each Legionary carrying all his necessary gear and arms with him on his back, along with a makeshift shield fastened from Denver PD riot gear and painted red with the symbol of the bull. To keep in time and ensure a steady pace, the Legionaries sang in latin a Legion march alongside accompanying drumbeats.

At the head of the column amidst a group of heavily armored riders, sat Legate Aurelius and Vulpes astride two fine Legion war horses, a grim determination on both of their faces. As the legions approached the outpost, Vulpes broke away and rode up to one of The Brotherhood commanders on duty.

"Tell Lord Barnaky," Vulpes began, as his horse stamped the ground before him, "That the Legions of mighty Caesar have come. We march to the east, and to war."

With an acknowledgement from The Brotherhood officer, Vulpes grabbed the reigns and spurred his horse back to the formation, his cloak and dog's head hood catching in the bleak wind of the plains behind him.

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Dr. Arthur West - Salem Clinic
“Excuse me doctor? Could I get some FUCKING MEDICAL ATTENTION?” Steve shouted.

Arthur was still examining Ace when he heard Steve shout from across the room. Far from only having a head injury, which he'd presumed when Steve had been brought in, Steve was apparently also nursing a deep cut across his stomach. The body armor and other heavy clothing of the man had obscured the wound.

"I'll be right back Ace," He said quickly, "Keep that bandage pressed on that wound."

Arthur then hurried over to Steve's beside, where the newest mutant resident of the town had already begun applying pressure to Steve's abdomen. Hesitantly, he approached the mutant, unsure of what to think of him. As he'd concluded in his earlier observations, he guess that this mutant was absolutely not one of the Commonwealth's.

“Doctor this one is going to need stitches, and you don’t want me doing stitches.” The mutant's words stirred him from his thoughts and he set himself to work.

"Right, sorry...let me grab my medical kit..."

Swiftly, Arthur turned around and grabbed his medical bag, pulling out surgical suture and a needle holder. He cleaned the wound quickly with anti-septic and went to work,

"This will sting a bit.." He said.

As he began stitching Steve up, Frieda came up from behind and touched him on the shoulder,

"Looks like I just lost my job. Well -- for a few minutes, anyways. Seems to know his way around a bleeder, for the most part, and seems unlikely anyone is going to try and attack the clinic while he's hanging around. I'm going to take care of the basement situation over at Brandy's and find us some food. I think we both missed breakfast, hm?" Frieda gave Arthur a reassuring smile. "I'll be back soon."

"Thank you Frieda, I appreciate you help," Arthur replied with a nod as she turned to leave. He then returned to his needle work, making sure Steve kept still while the suture was applied. It was then that he noticed that something around the mutants neck had fallen out: a pair of metal dog-tags to be precise. Arthur instantly recognized them for what they were: The Brotherhood's with the gear and swords of the order stamped on them.

Arthur paused for a moment in confusion, before quickly resuming,

What on earth would a mutant be doing with Brotherhood dog tags? He wondered, A trophy of some kind perhaps? Yes...that must be it.