Andronicus23

War Never Changes

Caesar Lucius, Imperator of The Legion

“Let us hold fast for the moment,” Lucius stood as Barnaky and The King had finished speaking. The entrance of the NCR and Texan delegates had caused a bit of stir, but nothing that couldn’t be solved with a little bit of order, “There is much to discuss here. I assure you all that we will get to each and every one of the issues that has been put forth. If I might bring some focus to this discussion however, let me first address the item that is most concerning to me. I feel too, that without resolution to this, we will not get far in this meeting.”

“First, I would like to welcome the delegates of Texas and the NCR military. Your presence here is necessary to ensure that what I wish to accomplish is done. As the neutral party in this affair, I hope that Texas may be able to ensure a smooth mediation and a fair agreement.”

Lucius sat down once again and folded his hands in front of him, he looked directly at the NCR delegates sitting aside President Harris,

“The first and foremost item of the agenda is this: I wish to formally end the war between the NCR and Legion. My terms are simple and direct: a continuation of the terms laid out between myself and General Lee Shu during the general armistice and a formal treaty of non-aggression. Under the terms of the armistice, all remaining NCR POWs that have rejected the Legion’s offer will be returned home by the end of the month. Finally, and most importantly, the NCR will accept full responsibility for the actions of its military and President Kimball Jr. The cause of the war, and its conclusion, will be laid squarely at the former President’s feet. The NCR Government will issue a formal condemnation of Kimball Jr, his administration, and his foolish invasion which ended any hope of diplomacy winning out before it could even begin. Those are MY terms, and I will accept nothing less than that. Given the circumstances, I think they are more than generous.”

El Dorado Substation, Nevada

Darkness engulfed the substation, the surviving caravan guards and scientists waited anxiously as their eyes tried to adjust. Suddenly there was a voice that cut through the blackness, one all of them were quite sure they’d not heard amongst those previously gathered..

“Oh boy….what have you done this time Robert?”

“Backup power coming online now!” One of the scientists shouted. Suddenly the lights flickered on once more, and the visage of House’s face on the large screen returned with it.

The survivors gasped when they saw a party of individuals standing atop the strange devices platform. One was a man in his mid-to-late 30s, wearing a pair of eyeglasses, neatly combed hair, and a stark white lab coat emblazoned with a vitruvian symbol. Next to him was a woman with fiery red hair, and a red and white form fitting jumpsuit. Finally two dour looking figures stood to either side of them: clad in dark armored coats and carrying strange energy weapons.

“The hell happened here? What’d you bloody idiots do? You could have got us killed! Christ just look at this place…” The red haired woman yelled out with a thick Boston-Irish accent.

“Now now Cait, there’s nothing to be worried about,” Thomas began examining the wreckage around him with a keen eye, almost as if he was making mental notes, “Signal strength at The Institute was excellent and the failsafe would have triggered if the relay was incomplete. We were never in any real danger. Most likely what happened is a failure to properly disperse the intense amount of energy on this end. Overloaded the fragile pre-war system and caused the mess you see here. Would you agree with that Robert?” Thomas turned to the television monitor with a grin.

One of the Coursers lifted a hand to his ear, “Successful transfer SRB. Relay complete.”

Karak Eight Peaks RP Interest Check (Warhammer Fantasy)

If anyone has suggestions to implement the RP, let me know. I'm not an expert in Warhammer lore by any means, so I'm all ears.

Karak Eight Peaks RP Interest Check (Warhammer Fantasy)

Karak Eight Peaks RP

Warhammer World Map: gitzmansgallery.com/shdmotwow-full.html

Basic Background:



Karak Eight Peaks, also called the City of Pillars, is a place of ceaseless bloody battle. Once a mighty stronghold of the Dwarven race and one of its greatest kingdoms, the city has fallen to hordes of both Greenskin and Skaven defiliers. After years and years of struggle, in which the Dwarfs fought bitterly for every inch of ground lost, the city eventually fell. The underground portion of the Karak, in which lay the majority of the city and its wealth, eventually fell into Skaven hands through the ingenious plotting of the Council of 13, the dreaded governing body of the Under-Empire, who used countless bodies of rat-kin to achieve their eventual victory. While the Skaven control the under-reaches of the City of Pillars, the surface portion is largely controlled by the Greenskins who have seized what they could and defiled the rest of the Dwarfs ancient ancestral home.



The Dwarfs, however, have not yet yielded the city. And with bitter determination, good dwarven steel and shot (along with a few well placed human mercenaries) they vow to reclaim the Karak inch by inch. While their efforts may constantly be thwarted by Skaven and Orc alike, they can at least take comfort in knowing that the two will happily kill each other almost as equally as their own. So far their bloody efforts have yielded little more than a foothold on the surface, but its given the Greenskins pause to consider that perhaps, the ‘stunties’ aren’t quite finished just yet. There’s still a good fight to be had, and they’ll surely relish the chance to clobber some more.



Meanwhile, the Skaven beneath the city continue their insidious scheming. While they may seem the most secure, with the difficulties of breaching the under levels as daunting as it is, they are far from invulnerable. Indeed, Dwarf and Greenskin incursions into their underground stronghold may be the least of their worries, as various Skaven Clans jockey for power over such a valuable prize as the City of Pillars is, and even amongst individual clans: loyalty is a precious commodity in short supply. After all, who best to be the mighty Warlord of the Pillar City but the lone Skaven who is most willing to kill anyone who stands in his way? Fur or no fur.

Characters:



You have the option to choose from various races and groups in the RP. Skaven, Greenskin, Dwarf, and Human being the most likely choices but not necessarily the only. If you can provide a valid, lore-friendly, reason for a character’s inclusion, then it might be permitted. However, you should be prepared to lose your character at any time, and in fact it's encouraged to try out multiple different characters throughout the RP. The idea is that this is a bloody battle unending, and if your character winds up in a situation where they face certain death: then they should.

Character Sheet:

Name:
Race:
Clan/Faction/Country:
Class Descriptor:
Physical Description:
Weapons/Armor and Gear:
Background:

Any interest?

War Never Changes

Indiana Border

A solemn figure clutched at his disheveled cloak as he pressed his hands against a pitifully low burning fire, one he’d attempted to keep burning since the early morning. The wastelander sat atop one of the bluffs overlooking old Highway 36. The sorry excuse for a meal he’d tried to prepare with the meagre amount of wood and kindling he’d been able to gather this morning was little more than a radroach, and it was not nearly fully cooked. It was disgusting, but it was protein and energy. He would need both if he expected to make his way to Tuscola. His flight from the Cult’s ever growing reach had been a hard one, and he was desperately hoping to take refuge in Brotherhood lands. It was his only choice.

As the wastelander sat there, cursing his poor fortune and the empty stomach that he’d suffered with all last night, he became keenly aware of some sort of commotion coming down the Highway. While he’d camped on the bluffs, he’s campsite was well out of sight of the road, and so he quickly sat up and crept his way through the underbrush and over to the edge, deciding it best to keep a low profile while tried to ascertain the source of the strange sounds.

His eyes widened with astonishment. Thousands of men marched below him with armor unlike any he’d seen before. The column stretched on for miles, engulfing the road in a tide of crimson. He backed away immediately….he knew he had to leave. If there was an army this large marching through, then they’d almost certainly…..

“Hold there wastel…”

….have scouts.

He turned to find three soldiers coming up behind him from the treeline, each wore the same strange armor as the army that marched below. A snarling dog was held tightly by one of them. Two held rifles, while one held a sharpened spear at the ready. They conversed with one another in a language he couldn’t hope to understand. The one with the spear approached him.

“I’m not a sp...” He tried to say before the butt of the spear crashed against his head, and his vision went dark.

Dunwich Borers LLC Quarry

“No wait! Please!” A raider scrambled desperately backwards on the floor, hand outstretched in a plea for mercy: something he himself would never have extended to his many victims. X6 continued approaching the man coldly with pistol raised. Without the word the Courser shot the man through the head with a single blue tinged laser blast and simply stepped over his body.

X6 looked up and out the open window of the overlooking structure towards the Quarry below. All along the rim and basin of the carved rock face, blue tinged laser fire burnt flesh, leather, and armor as a force of Coursers eradicated the raiders that had taken up residence here. The rag-tag group of wasteland junkies stood little chance against the deadly efficiency of the Institute’s attack dogs. The surprise attack was over in mere moments, leaving only a few remaining wounded to mop up. X6 turned to acknowledge one of his Coursers approaching up the gantry to give his report,

“All of the surface dwellers have been killed sir. The rest have fled deeper into the Quarry.”

“We’ll follow them in shortly,” X6 said as he popped the spent energy cell out of his pistol and replaced it with a fresh one, “Now that they’re aware of our attack. They’re bound to be more prepared now. I will signal the scavenger teams and inform them that the surface is clear to begin their investigation.”

The Institute - Advanced Systems Laboratory

“The power requirements alone will be staggering Director. I’m not entirely sure we can even guarantee enough with the reactor fully online and the entire Eastern Massachusetts power grid at our disposal. And what about our...associate in this matter?” Dr. Madison Li stood inside her office glaring at Thomas, her perpetually sour faced expression had not changed one iota in the past fifteen minutes. As always, Li tried to be the voice of reason, or in the opinion of some of the Advanced Systems team: a spoil sport.

“He’s more than capable of figuring it out,” Thomas replied, “ And with Hoover Dam operational, he should have what we needs on his end as well. Need I remind you this is a trial run Dr. Li, you have to break a few eggs to make an omelet......I assume that’s still an expression people use now?”

Madison sighed, “It is...and very well. I’ll make sure my team is ready for the power transfer. I’ll do my best to prepare them. We’d better notify SRB as well...this energy spike could be huge.”

“Everyone who needs to know, already does,” Thomas said with a smirk, “You can be sure of that, Dr. Li.”

War Never Changes

Nuka World, Nuka Town USA

The sounds of fierce battle filled the streets of Nuka Town as the Operators began their purge. Spurred on by The Institute’s promise of a mutually beneficial relationship, the Black siblings had launched their long awaited plan to seize Nuka Town for their own, and eliminate the other two gangs. Despite the element of surprise things had not gone entirely to plan. The initial strategy devised by William and Mags was to attack and quickly destroy The Pack with overwhelming force before Nisha and her Disciples even had a chance to learn what was going on. However Mason and his gang had not proven easy to dislodge from their little warren. Mags and William both had given a brief moment of introspection to this, and realized how much they’d underestimated Mason’s crew. They’d made a huge miscalculation, and paid the price.

Finally Mason had been killed, albeit only after taking out a few Operators by himself as he fought like a cornered bear. With that done, they could focus their attention on The Disciples. Unfortunately, the delay caused had left The Disciples with time to figure out what was happening and ready themselves. Now, Mags and William found themselves attempting to breach the Fizztop mountain courtyard, which The Disciples had barricaded and now fiercely guarded, leading The Operators into a choke point.

It was here the battle had stalled, and things were getting desperate,

“Fucking mask wearing creeps!” William yelled out over the din of automatic gunfire as he ducked behind a ‘Cappy and Bottle’ statue.

“Will!” Mags yelled to her brother. She could hear bullets whizzing past her head as she lay down behind the fountain, “They're trying to buy time! They’re going to make a run for it!”

“I can see that Sis!” William snarled as he unloaded a few shots at the barricade. One of the bullets struck a female Disciple, and she crumpled to the ground.

Mags could already hear the shots of the Operators she’d sent to swing around the side of Fizztop, evidently having run into Disciples that had been moved to counter just such an encirclement. Nisha was a bloodthirsty monster, but she wasn’t stupid. Mags cursed herself for not realizing that she should have been their first target, not Mason. Mason never possessed the cunning that Nisha had always showed.

“What the fuck do we do now Sis?” William called out again. Mags had always been the brain to William’s brawn. He was no dummy himself, but he’d always relied on Mags to figure out a way to get them out of tight spot. And a tight spot they were in.

“Damnit!” Mags cried out and pounded her fist on the ground, “I really didn’t want to have to do this….this was our fight! Noone elses!”

She withdrew a small white cylindrical object from her pocket, a red electrical warning label was stamped to its side. She pulled the pin and tossed it over the barricade.

“The fuck was that?” William asked incredulously, “The hell did you just do? Was that a goddamn grena...”

Suddenly flashes of blue light began appearing atop and over the barricade, along with the sounds of laser fire….and numerous mechanical voices.

“By order of The Institute, you must be destroyed.”

William knew exactly what she’d done, and he wasn’t happy, “You signaled them?”

“Had no other choice. We fucked up. Plain and simple,” Mags grumbled as she came to her feet. The gunfire had begun to lull as the screams of surprised Diciples faded away with it. A Gen-1 Synth poked its head around the makeshift barricade before stepping out into full view.

“Operation complete. No hostile lifesigns detected in area.”

“Good no lets….wait none at all? What about inside Fizztop?” A worried look crossed Mag’s face.

“No lifesigns detected.”

Mags let out an enraged scream that surprised her brother, “What? What is it?” He pleaded with her for an answer.

“Nisha’s already gone!” Mags fumed, “They escaped!”

---

Back at Institute SRB, Dr. Secord had watched the entire scene unfold with a discerning eye. The Watchers had captured everything she’d needed for her report,

“Not a good first impression,” She muttered to herself as she ejected the recording holotape. They’d captured footage of The Disciples leaving through the back entrance as well, scattering to the hillside like scrambling rodents. She could order a pursuit, but it seemed pointless. What was one more outcast raider gang amongst the innumerable in the wastes? After The Institute’s synths had appeared, she quite doubted too that they’d ever return to bother Nuka World again. And she cared little for where they went beyond that.

---

Nisha tracked the groups of her Disciples streaming in, scattered as they were, as they began to rally up on the other side of the mountains. Dixie approached her, with a hand held to her hip and speaking in that incessantly polite southern twang that hid the true darkness of her soul almost as much as her Mask did,

“Looks like the gang’s gettin’ back together Nisha honey,” She chirped, “Got ourselves out of a bit of a tight spot didn’t we? So where we headin’ now boss? We gunna go back and gut William and Maggy? I wouldn’t mind a few swipes at that pretty little face of Maggy’s myself.”

Nisha didn’t bother to turn to her, instead she gazed down at the scrap of crudely skinned hide she held. She didn’t doubt for a moment that the hide most likely hadn’t been that of an animal. It had come to her via a trader, one of many that frequented Nuka World. Something about that one had made her uneasy however, and now she knew why.

A strange symbol lay tattooed on the hide scrap. The same symbol she’d seen calling to her in her dreams for the past year….and now...it told her where to go next,

“West,” She said simply, as she hid the mark back within her clenched fist, “We go west.”

Gunner’s Plaza - GNN Newsroom

“You’re serious then Colonel? We’re actually going through with this?”

Lt. Kilhorn’s confused expression shifted from face to face, first to Captain Wes, then Colonel Cypress and Commander Kaylor. The three commanding officers of the Gunners sat before him on what used to be the old newsroom table,

“Yeah, and why not? It's a job ain’t it? Are you telling me The Gunners should take contracts from anyone but The Institute?” The gruff voice of the aging Colonel was hoarse but still commanding. Kilhorn involuntary chafed under the reproach.

“I don’t think it's just a job Colonel,” Kilhorn meekly replied, “They’re trying to control us.”

“HA!” That’s a good one, Commander Kaylor threw back her head in a laugh, “As if. They’re just looking for some extra muscle. They know damn well they can’t control us. Besides what's the point? As long as they stay underground or in space, or wherever the hell they are, then we get full run of the surface right? Do as we please.”

“Institute caps wouldn’t hurt either. I’m sure they’ve got plenty enough to give us,” Captain Wes added, “We’ll be set for life.”

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t take a job from them….but..”

“And just what are you saying boy?” The Colonel growled, “Because it sounds to me like you’re saying you’re going to disobey a direct order from Gunner command. Do I have that right?”

“No sir,” Kilhorn suddenly snapped to attention, all thoughts of doubt erased by years of regimented discipline, “Forgive me sir. I spoke hastily. I'll let the other officers know your decision right away. Thank you sir.”

“See that you do. Dismissed.”

With that, Kilhorn gave a salute and turned sharply to walk out the door of the studio, leaving the Gunner leaders behind.

Colonel Cypress turned to Kaylor and Wes briefly, giving them a nod of understanding which they returned in kind. Cypress raised a hand to his ear,

“SRB...this is Unit B3-45 reporting. Operation complete.”

War Never Changes

Caesar Lucius

“Then let us divide the Khan lands at the end of this war. This war in the east will finish with our victory. When our forces have returned west, after the appropriate period of recuperation, we can fall upon the Khans from the west and south. Would that be agreeable to you Caesar?”

Lucius shook his head, “Forgive me High Elder, I’ve not made my intention clear in this discussion. I will not declare war on the Khans without provocation, without casus belli. Sallow was a conqueror, Kimball Jr….tried to be...both men met untimely fates because of their hubris. I don’t intend to follow either to the grave. The Legion I’m forging...is one I intend to be a more stable and productive state than either of them ruled. If you intend to attack the Khans...I will not stop you. As I said, The Legion and the Khans, while amicable, are not allied and I’ve no obligation to rise to their defense. They’ve taken Legion gold in exchange for oaths of battle, but that is all. That being said….I would desire that The Legion be permitted to offer terms of peaceful annexation to the lands of New Canaan and northern Utah. I want to gain what I seek through diplomacy for a change….not warfare. Something Sallow never considered.”

At this point one of the servants handed Lucius a message, indicating that it was from someone waiting outside in the foyer. Lucius quickly read the missive from Barnaky and looked up to see the Lord of The Midwest awaiting the response. Lucius motioned for him to join them. He had no intention of hiding this from Barnaky, nor did it seem, did Gladstone from the tone of his voice.

“However,” he continued, “If you are content to wait until after the war in the east is decided to resolve this, then I’m content with that oath and welcome your support and pledge to do so.”

Once Barnaky entered the room, Lucius address him directly,

“Ave Lord Barnaky,” Lucius said as he rose to meet the robotic construct that served as his proxy, “This meeting has been overdue for far too long, hasn’t it? Please join us.”

Once Barnaky was seated, Gladstone outline his full intentions to join the war, and spoke of an alliance to be forged. Lucius nodded in agreement,

“Your support is welcome, as I previously mentioned. Legatus Aurelius even now marches east to engage the cult. I fear the war will claim many more bodies before the cult is finally defeated.”

War Never Changes

Caesar Lucius

“I will raise up the Western Brotherhood to heights it has never known before, we will stride forth and scour the mutant from the land and purge the barbarism of the raiders. As for the Great Khans, I shall be frank. I do not hold anything against them, if it is Caesar’s wish I shall leave them be.”

“Or, perhaps we could carve up their lands between us? An alliance between us would I think be a way to constrain the New Californian Republic from ever moving against us again. An entente against them, you to the south and southeast, and the brotherhood to the north and northeast. I suggest the old highway 80 be the new borders between our lands. And perhaps, befitting of your marital connections, the former lands of New Canaan and all the Mormon territories could be rendered unto Caesar as well?”

Lucius sighed and sat back in his chair, his mind racing with a number of different thoughts. This was going to prove to be an….interesting start to this meeting,

“You put me in an awkward position High Elder. First, to your offer, I cannot deny that reclaiming New Canaan from the Khans has long been a secret desire of mine. Consider it the sentimentality of a husband to his wife, and the desire to right a wrong that I indirectly played a part in by serving Sallow. Had Sallow not encouraged the White Legs to destroy New Canaan, perhaps those lands would still be in the New Canaanites care and out of the Khans hands. Part of me wishes to accept your offer without hesitation...” Lucius gave a sidelong glance to his wife, waiting out in the foyer. She was not aware of the conversation currently going on in the meeting room, and appeared to be discussing some hospitality matters with a few of the household slaves.

“However,” he continued, resuming eye contact with Gladstone, “As I mentioned before The Legion has amicable enough relations with The Khans, and they've proved to be reliable thus far. Even now, Khan mercenaries are fighting side-by-side with your Brothers, and mine, against the greater foe we face in the east. Does that not give you pause at least to consider the implications of war with them? I wonder too, what Lord Barnaky might say about yet another war flaring up in the west. When the true war now lies east.”

War Never Changes

Desmond Lockheart - On the Road to Pittsburgh, Outside Yonkers

Desmond strained his eyes as he stared towards the towering broken structures of what used to be the old world city of New York. His recent trip via the molecular relay had left him with a stomach churning sensation, and although The Institute’s personnel had assured him that use of the relay conferred no ill effects, he wasn’t fond of traveling with it. He’d seen enough of those cheesy B-movie horror flicks before the war where some brilliant scientist accidentally teleported half of his body or some other poor sod’s right into oblivion. He didn’t like to use it, and would have preferred his own two feet if he could spare the time.

Still, he couldn’t help but admire its efficiency and speed of travel. The Institute had calibrated the relay to the furthest extent of their comfortable transmission range. It had taken a hell of a lot of power, and would it been entirely impossible if not for The Institute’s cold fusion reactor, but it had manage to drop him not far outside the outskirts of New York, which was a rather considerable distance to travel quickly even in the pre-war world.

SRB had loaded him up with enough provisions to last a good long awhile, but he needed information and speedy, discrete, transport to Pittsburgh, if such a thing was possible. He might find both in New York and if not there, then in The Free Commonwealth, his next destination. The potential difficulties of the journey were not lost on him. He’d heard Pittsburgh was a hell-hole after the war, but rumour was that now it was even worse.

“The hell am I doing this for anyway?” He muttered to himself as he heaved his supply satchel up and over his grimy overcoat. He then stared down at his rotten, necrotic hands, rubbing his fingers together lightly as he tried to remember what it felt like to have skin that didn’t peel off every time he touched it. Thomas’s promise of a new body, a return to what he once was, flooded his mind. It was a gamble...but he had to trust the pre-war popsicle to hold up his end of the bargain.

“Right then,” He sighed, and he double checked to make sure his 9mm was secured by his side, “On the road again….for the upteenth time in a fuckin’ century.”

Caesar Lucius, Santa Fe - Palace of Caesar

“As I see that I am the first to arrive, might I be presumptuous, and enquire as to any matters you might wish to raise with the western brotherhood? Might I suggest an exchange of ambassadors and perhaps the establishment of a trade agreement between our civilisations? In additions to any other matters Caesar wishes to raise with my nation.”

“Ave Elder, and firstly, I thank you for the gifts. They were unnecessary, but not unwelcome. I’ll gladly accept such generosity,” Lucius nodded to a couple of Praetorians standing guard at the doorway, and motioned for them to take the chests of finery away so that they would not clutter up the meeting room.

“As for your second question, yes, I think there is a matter we should discuss. Have a seat. The matter I wanted to discuss with you specifically, Elder, and one of the primary reasons for your invitation to this gathering was to allay some concerns. Your recent militaristic reform of The Brotherhood hasn’t gone unnoticed, especially by your neighbors. The Great Khans. The Khans are not allies of the Legion, and indeed many of them still harbor resentment against us after the learned what Sallow had planned for them in Vegas….however we have good enough relations as it stands. And those Khans who are friendly to the Legion have expressed doubts that your intentions in the region will remain peaceful.”

He paused for a few seconds and leaned in, “And so I'll ask you bluntly, are their doubts unfounded?”

War Never Changes

The Institute, Residential Sector 8B Corridor

Thomas stood transfixed as the Synth stood back up, even after the Director’s Authorization override had been used. That, however, was far from the most terrifying part. The true source of his horror was the fact that, in her hand, she now held the single vital component that was her very being. The equivalent of a living human having just torn out their brain with their own hands: that was what he faced. The utter impossibility of it shook him to his very core. The component clattered to the ground at his feet, but he didn’t even give it a second glance.

"I AM THE HEIRESS OF THE PROPHET!" The Synth shouted, the meaning of the words was lost to him, but he was far from concerned about that right now.

“Orders Director?” X6 asked expectantly, but he was unable to respond.

It was then that one of his Coursers simply….snapped. With its neck, mangled and utterly broken, the Courser fell to the ground almost immediately. Thomas took a step back, had the Synth done that somehow? No...that wasn’t possible.

Half-hearted attempts at explanations entered his mind, but he hardly even had time to truly contemplate the occurrence before the Synth began rushing forward.

"YOU ALL SHOULD NOT BE!" She shouted.

Thomas made no move to stop her as she charged the Coursers. Part of him, he was ashamed to admit, wanted to see what would happen next. He was desperate for a logical explanation...something...anything...that might allow this all to make sense that observing her was the only thing he could think to do.

However, instead of continuing to attack the Coursers, she instead honed in on a new, softer, target. She rushed Cait, and grabbed her, lifting her up with an ease that would have been difficult to achieve even for a Synth. It was then that Thomas came to his senses, he hurled a power armored fist at her torso. It was neither a skillful nor practiced blow, merely a very human reaction to someone he loved threatened.

A3’s body splintered under the force of it, and she was forced to drop her prey. Whatever this thing was...it was mortal at least. With Cait clear of her grasp, Thomas gave the order,

“Kill it!”

The Coursers opened fire, a dozen laser shots tore into her arms and legs, searing synthetic flesh and ripping what was left of A3-18 to shreds.

One Hour Later - Emergency Meeting of The Directorate, Directorate Boardroom

The Directorate had been gathered, each member of The Institute's five divisions seated about the white oval table inside the Boardroom on the top level. At the center of the table on a metal surgical tray was the Synth Component, the one that A3-18 had torn from her head and ‘tossed’ to Thomas. Each of the respective Division Heads, shifted uneasily in their seat. Thomas sat with his elbows on the table, his hands folded in front of his face as his bespectacled eyes were fixed on the component. The uneasy silence was palpable.

Finally someone spoke. It was Dr. Holdren, head of Bioscience,

“Sabotage? Perhaps someone illegally modified the Synth somehow. ” He offered a half-hearted suggestion, it was more to clear the air than anything, “Perhaps Dr. Wagner himself, given that he was a member of Robotics.”

“She tore it from her head, Clayton,” Thomas replied flatly, his eyes didn’t leave the component. There’s no amount of modification that can allow a Synth to do that and still be functional. Initially I had thought we were facing a malfunctioning unit, perhaps even one that had been injected with malicious code to bypass the security safeguards, but this….this is something different.”

“Surely there must be some possible explanation? Can you give an opinion at least, as head of Robotics?”

Thomas was silent for a few moments, before he sighed,

“The only thing I can think of is that someone figured out a way to insert a bootstrap loader into the Synth’s component, an embedded piece of code hidden in memory that we were unable to detect during normal security scans, and which initialized a remote connection to some external process that took over operation of the Synth. When the component was removed, theoretically the Synth may have been functioning off those basic received commands. But that type of technology to allow for direct interface with the Synth’s neuromuscular system without the component is theoretical only. We’re decades away from even prototyping such a thing.”

“That’s a terrifying thought in and of itself...” Clayton replied uneasily.

“On that note, I’m more concerned about the weapon that she used to destroy one of the Coursers,” Dr. Li interjected, “The footage from the security feed seems to indicate that she used some sort of, well for lack of a better term, telekinesis. There’s a number of ways such a feat could be explained scientifically with the right parameters in place, but all of them would require a level of technology surpassing our own.”

Dr. Secord nodded in agreement, “So if this is sabotage, we’re dealing with a group far more advanced than we assumed the surface dwellers were capable of,” She turned to Thomas, an expectant look in her eyes, “So then what do we do?”

There was a brief pause as the room fell silence, each of them looking to Thomas as The Director to make the decision. He unfolded his hands and looked up,

“We deal with the immediate security issue first. Whatever this is….whoever we are facing...we have to assume they have the ability to compromise our Gen-3 Synth network. Any non-essential Gen-3 units will decommissioned for the time being and placed into secure storage. Essential workers will be strictly monitored at all times and only be allowed in designated areas. Gen-2 and Gen-1 units will fill any gaps created in the workforce. We’ll also increase security sweeps throughout The Institute.”

“And the Coursers?” Alana asked.

“If the Gen-3 units can be compromised….we can’t take any chances. I’ll order X6-88 to assume command of the Courser units stationed in The Institute and they’ll be garrisoned temporarily on the surface. A base camp inside the CIT Ruins should do fine.”

“It’s an extreme measure, but I can’t say I disagree,” Dr. Filmore stated, “I’d also recommend we run security scans on the old generation synths, just to be safe. Perhaps install a few more security cameras in the corridors for better monitoring.”

Thomas nodded, “See that it gets done Allie. Next….we need to address what A3-18 said. It’s quite obviously a clue to deciphering the identity of our attackers. Alana, I believe you have something to report in that regard.”

“Indeed,” Alana replied and she pulled out a few manilla folders and laid them on the table in front of her, “A3-18 made mention of an ‘Heiress of The Prophet' when it began to...malfunction. Based on the information our Synth units we able to gather from the Vegas affair, we believe we’ve identified who this is referring to. A one Marie Ashur, currently associated with the group known as ‘The Cult of Ug-Qualtoth.’ We have a number of images captured of her and the other leaders of the Cult that attended the conference including their ‘War-Leader’, a vile looking brute called ‘Dosh-Novan’. We had previously built profiles on all of the attendees to the conference that we could successfully identify, so I can provide her file to you Director if that is acceptable.”

“Please do.”

“So this Cult of Ug-K-ua-ltoth….Ug-Qu-alt…..Uggy…...nevermind. This “Cult”, “A confused look crossed Clayton Holdren’s face, “Your suggestion is that they had something to do with this Alana?”

“Perhaps. Or at the very least, someone wishes us to believe they did. Either way, I suggest we accelerate our plans to investigate them.”

“Agreed,” Thomas said, “To that end. I’ll inform Desmond that he’s to begin his journey to Pittsburgh immediately. Likewise, we’ll begin following up any leads to The Cult that we’ve previously identified. Including those in the Maryland and DC regions.”

“Sir if I may,” Alana shuffled the files in front of her about before pulling out a single sheet, “SRB has discovered a pre-war connection to the cult as well based on the information provided to us by Mr. Lockheart during his stay in Point Lookout. Are you familiar with Dunwich Borers LLC?”

“The mining company?” Thomas asked, a bit surprised, “Vaguely yes. I seem to recall them having a quarry not far from the Salem area. They sold industrial drill bits too I believe. Other than that, I’m confused what connection they could possibly have with this?”

“They’re linked to the cult somehow through the owner, Richard Dunwich. We’re still investigating, but we did a database crawl on some of the pre-war CIT records, and there were a number of references to the company before the war being accused of ‘occultic activities’ in several news outlets. The scandal was not very widespread apparently and was quickly forgotten, but I believe it might be worth further inquiry.”

“The Dunwich Quarry is still there I believe then yes? I’ll task X6 and a few Coursers to comb the quarry and see if there’s any records on the company remaining there. Good work Alana, it's at least something we can follow up on. In the meantime,” Thomas continued, turning to the others, “We’ll consider this an isolated security incident and assure our people that its being dealt with. Let me be clear on something as well, I don’t believe in dark gods or evil powers, magic, or the like. I believe as I’m sure each of your do that there must be rational explanation behind what happened in that corridor. If something can be observed….it can be studied scientifically. Let's find that explanation and learn all we can about it. I’ll ask you all to link your divisions...your resources, work together on this and come to me should you require anything.”

A murmur of agreement came from the Directorate, and after a few thank yous and final words, The Directorate dispersed and left the room, leaving Thomas to his own thoughts. After some time he stepped out of the board room and returned to his own quarters. He had one final matter he wanted to attend to.

He accessed his private terminal, and the read the message he’d received only hours before the incident had occurred. His old colleague had come calling.

ROUND TWO?_ROBERT HOUSE_LUCKY 38 HOTEL & CASINO RESORT_

“I could use some of that cold rationality of yours right about now Robert….,” Thomas muttered and he clicked a button on the keyboard. The data transfer began immediately, but would take some time to complete as it had to bounce through a number of different pre-war satellites before it would finally reach House. The schematics he sent he knew House would be able to understand, perhaps not enough to fully comprehend its workings, but then again he wouldn’t need to. All he needed to do...was build it.

War Never Changes

Vulpes Inculta, SAC HQ Bunker

"What do you think, Vulpes? It's the same woman we saw in the earlier clip....that is confirmed....I'm not sure what to make of it. One minute, she basically commandeers a Raider gang from it's leader, with almost no protest....then she leads them nearly a quarter of a mile into a head-on confrontation with a platoon of Knights without flinching, only to flee from the least well armed and armored man there. I can't stop thinking about it. I know there is something there....but what it is just eludes me!"

Vulpes the playback of video clips, ones that the Inquisition had noted were relevant towards his goal of better understanding the cult. And, more importantly, better understanding how to fight them. He had to admit that the incident in question was...interesting...to say the least,

“You instincts aren’t falling you Inquisitor,” Vuples replied, his eyes squinting at the terror in the face of the woman, “I believe there may be more to this than we assume. However, it's very difficult to say for sure. The woman’s madness could simply be that: madness. What do we know about her?”

"The woman?", Joseph replied, "She still lives...the Field unit in Indianapolis is holding her. She's largely her old self again. The Psychologists assure me she is completely, and probably incurably, mad, as most every committed Cult member we've interrogated has been....you'll find her most unpleasant. I'll make the arrangements with Inquisitor Stahl in Indianapolis to transfer her to your custody at your convenience. She'll be a good introduction to the kind of Enemy we face, and perhaps you will spot what I've been missing."

“Excellent. And what about the soldier? The one to whom she apparently lost her mind in sight of? Where is he now?”

Lancer-Sergeant Kyle is still in Indianapolis as well", Joseph said, "The Paladin-General's staff is debriefing him, trying to learn what happened in Boston. Spends his free time watching newsreels and films...mostly of our History since the Arrival and the Lord-Paladin himself. I can make arrangements through the Lord-Paladin's office if you would like to interview him as well. He's just as baffled by that woman's behavior as we are."

“I would very much like to, please have the details arranged,” Vulpes smiled, “I cannot say whether or not I’ll be able to discern the truth here, but...as a Frumentarius of mighty Caesar, on my honor I will do my best. The Legate will be expecting his report once his legions arrive at Indianapolis. So I would like to move quickly on this. ”

Santa Fe - Capital of The Legion

Santa Fe is the Legion’s largest city and the beating heart of its empire. A sprawling metropolis built atop the ruins of the former old world city. The ruins of downtown Santa Fe contain derelict skyscrapers and pre-war buildings much of which is the domain of scavengers and scrappers looking to pick apart the carcass of its pre-war legacy. Uptown, however, is where The Legion has constructed the new post-war city that now truly defines it. Started under Sallow when he was still Caesar, the city's architecture is a striking mixture of Spanish style adobe buildings reminiscent of its pre-war heritage, and the Legion’s own unique style of architecture which, of course, Sallow based upon that of ancient Rome as well. Large aqueducts, a facsimile of the originals, carry water drawn from the ground to the city. Great forums and open markets where the goods and wares of the wasteland can be found are scattered throughout the city. Livestock of all kinds along with exotic mutated animals are bought and sold alongside great quantities of grain and foodstuffs from the Midwest, and other items that come from as far as the Keys. Slaves too are a common sight, both carrying supplies to and fro or as merchandise themselves. Legion women dressed in distinctive but simple gowns reminiscent of their historical counterparts haggle with merchants to procure the foodstuffs and goods their families’ require, many of them with their children and household slaves in tow. Gold and silver Legion coin are exchanged in great amounts for all these products, and caravaners and merchants alike come from far and wide to trade in the city.

Along with the exchange of worldly goods, come spiritual ones as well. New Canaanite missionaries and traders from Zion walk freely about the city, protected as they are by Caesar’s orders on behalf of his beloved wife. They speak to any who might pass them, and eagerly greet newcomers on the hope of spreading the word of their Lord. While the New Canaanites freely preach the word of their God, the one to whom the majority of the people of the city devote themselves is Mars: the Legion’s God of War and the sole focus of their worship. At the center of the city lies a great temple to Mars: once a great church before the war, that has been converted and expanded upon by the Legion. A statue of Mars crafted from the steel of the old city stands proudly before its doors: proudly holding aloft a Legion styled machete and wearing armor not unlike a Legion centurion. The Priestesses of Mars, a sisterhood that pledge themselves to the God of War, keep this great temple and attend to the faithful of the city, as well as serve as healers and wise women.

Despite the trappings of cultural exchange, the city itself is unmistakably Legion. That becomes clear with the sight of hundreds of Legionaries patrolling the streets. Drilled contubernia march in disciplined formation up and down the streets and alleyways of the city keeping peace and order. The results of which can be seen publicly displayed in gruesome fashion. Crucified criminals line squares of public execution: drug runners, thieves, drunkards, and chem addicts find themselves nailed alongside murders and rapists. The message is clear: those who break the Legion’s laws in its territories are punished severely. Testament to this strict martial control: a sprawling military quarter of the city houses barracks for numerous legionaries and urban cohorts stationed in Santa Fe, as well as training and parade grounds, kennels and stables for legion beasts of war, and blacksmiths and gunsmiths for the Legion’s arsenal. Next to the military quarter, a great arena constructed from metal and scrap walls hosts gladiatorial games and other blood-sports to pit man and creatures against one another. The clashing of blades and beasts can often be heard emanating from it over the usual din of the city.

Finally, the city’s center is the palace of Caesar, the construction of which once served as Edward Sallow’s own vanity project, although he died long before he could see its completion. Sallow himself took the design from illustrations he found in pre-war books on ancient Roman villas: a walled complex with an inner courtyard garden where he might rule the new Empire he intended to create. Although it seems clear the main structure and perhaps the grounds itself are actually a pre-war building modified to look more “roman”. A faded sign reading “Sante Fe Public Library” make that obvious. Praetorians patrol the grounds of the courtyard and guard their posts within the main villa building itself: where Lucius and his inner household reside. Entering into the villa’s doors, guests would find great numbers of items on display throughout the house taken on the Legion’s many conquests as well as mounted trophies of various wasteland animals.

As they enter, delegates would be be greeted by the wife of Caesar, a brown haired New Canaanite woman. She patiently awaits the arrival of each of her husbands invited guests. Like other Legion women encounter in the city, she wears a distinct style of dress, albeit of a higher quality. A small wooden cross hangs from a necklace as the only piece of jewelry she wears.

“Salve,I am Hannah of New Canaan. Welcome to Santa Fe on behalf of my husband, Caesar Lucius. And welcome to our home, please make yourselves comfortable inside.”

They are then led forward into an adjacent room where a large pre-war wooden dinner table, along with Lucius himself, awaits them. Lucius, while bandaged and still bearing the scars of his battle, is dressed in a crimson Legionary tunic. He looks alive and well and ready to begin the meeting.