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3 yrs ago
If you want to play both Fallout 3 and New Vegas, I'd recommend trying out A Tale of Two Wastelands.
3 yrs ago
You're a rock star
3 yrs ago
Unless the problem is in the air.
1 like
3 yrs ago
If they at least have the decency to say that they're leaving instead of simply ghosting the RP, that's good enough to me.


I originally got into forum roleplaying on the official Bethesda Game Studios Forums in 2007 or 2008. When the forums were replaced with Bethesda.net, I was one of several close-knit Fallout RPers who came here.

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Fleuri Jodeau

This should prove to be quite the challenge, he thought. Even with half of Erion's knights sitting the battle out, they still outnumbered the Roses, and their uniform appearance suggested to him that they were accustomed to fighting in formations. They weren't even being challenged to actually defeat the knights, just get within striking distance of the Last Prince of Talderia.

The strength of the Talderian knights was their uniformity. The strength of the Roses would have to be their variety.

With the smoke and confusion of the witch's bombardment and Rolan's alchemical mixture, it would be up to the line-breakers- Renar, Gerard, Fionn, and himself- to crash against the enemy's ranks.

Renar commanded Fleuri to support him at the front, with Fionn and Gerard supporting them. He wordlessly nodded beneath his helmet, and took up his position. He charged forward, sword raised. Fionn circled around Renar, creating a wedge formation, and demonstrating a new trick- a spell to enhance his longsword into a greatsword. Quite a useful trick, Fleuri thought. Being able to enhance or alter one's weapon in such a manner opened up many new possibilities in combat.

He swung his sword at the first Talderian in his way, striking from outside the range of their own one-handed sword but consequently not having a lot of force behind the attack. It was no matter- his intention was to keep them on the defensive for just a moment. As he advanced, he spun around, picking up more momentum so when his greatsword came swinging around, it would hit with much more force against a now-closer foe.

Instead the blow was intercepted by the shield of the next-nearest Talderian, taking the brunt of a strike and leaving their companion open to counterattack the Iron Rose. Before coming to this world, Fleuri might be able to deflect the blow. But after training with Florian, after facing so many foes as recalled by the Mirror Knight, he found himself instead deflecting and attacking in the same movement, catching the foe's blade on his hilt as his blade was rotated and swung towards his foe.

These warriors were indeed formidable in their cooperative formation fighting, and it'd mean that he'd be having to fight multiple foes at once throughout this battle. And while Fleuri would probably never be able to take on two knights at once quite like as Florian could, he was nonetheless confident in what the Mirror Knight had taught him.

Suddenly, Renar commanded them to follow his lead and get out of the way. He didn't take a moment to look at why they were being told to do it- this was a time for action, and even a moment's hesitation could be disastrous. Besides, for all of his bad blood with Renar, he trusted the man on the battlefield. He moved in Renar's direction, only then realizing the exact meaning of his words- to give the witch a clear shot for a spell.

The moment Renar would resume his attack, Fleuri would appear at his side, striking at any that were unbalanced by the polearm blows.

@Psyker Landshark@The Otter @HereComesTheSnow

??? - ???

"It looks like there's no tripwires or pressure plates," the dragoon remarked.

Javal carefully approached the chest along the same path as the knight, halberd in hand. With his free hand, he took a clump of moss and used it to illuminate the chest, allowing him to more carefully examine it from every side, looking for any wires or potential trigger mechanisms attached to the exterior of the container. He also took a closer look at the indentations, trying to assess the exact sort of hazard they might pose. Would arrows fly from them? Would spears emerge from them?

The chest had a lock, but he could see a few options. He or the knight could probably smash the chest open, although the elf mage seemed apprehensive about trying anything like that. Perhaps it'd be better to leave this room and keep their eyes out for a key, rather that fixate on it. After all, they had no idea where they were or what other hazards lurked in this cavern.

"If there is a trap, it could be triggered by opening the lid," he remarked, as he looked over it.

If he was back on Earth, this is what they'd consider at the airports to be a suspicious package.

@Thunder999999@Expendable@Crusader Lord

??? - ???

The elf was right, this arrangement looked an awful lot like a trap. Arrows, spears, darts, something would probably emerge from those indentations on the wall if they approached the chest. There could be tripwires, or there could be pressure plates, or perhaps opening the chest might trigger it.

Even if they got to the chest, there was no guarantee that there'd be anything inside of it.

The elves were discussing possible ways to try and trip it. One was suggesting firing ice at it, the other believed that it might damage the chest.

"Would it be possible for you to shoot ice with less force?" Javal asked the ice mage. "If need be, I could prod for triggers from a distance with my weapon. And if I am interpreting my skill correctly, I might be able to jump over the traps, but that wouldn't help if the chest has a trigger or a trap of its own."

A cave might not be the best place to put his skill to the test for the first time- he might bump his head on the celling or a stalactite.

"What about you?" he asked the knight. "Do you have a skill or ability that might help us here?"

@Thunder999999@Expendable@Crusader Lord

??? - ???

It appeared the others also had been caught in the plane crash. Assuming this was all real, that implied that potentially hundreds of people, both crew and passengers, might been reborn here in new bodies. Or maybe just these four were chosen- they'd have to investigate further.

In the event of a disaster, the crew was trained to take charge. Unfortunately, there was really no way to actually identify the rest of them without them saying it. And Javal was quite hesitant to say anything, lest they might place the (statistically not inaccurate) blame on the pilots for the abrupt end of their lives, and he couldn't blame them if they did. However, he definitely would be keeping an eye out for any reincarnated that might be former crew.

"There's no need to quarrel. I am familiar with the term and the meaning of it," Javal chimed in. "Perhaps it is a bit weird to describe it as our current situation, but...it certainly looks likes it describes the situation well." He had been a casual imbiber of anime and games prior to his death (in hindsight, though, perhaps he should've spent more time on flight sims and less time on JRPGs), and the premise as described by the elf wasn't wholly unfamiliar to him.

"I agree with the knight, through, we should find our way out of here. We'd better be very careful, though."

As he started to follow the knight, he turned back to the second elf-looking fellow. "To answer your question, when I awoke, a HUD appeared in front of me, displaying statuses, inventory, and other important information about the new me. I presume you have one too?" Curious, it sounded like they couldn't see each other's screens. A shame it didn't have a compass or some other indicator of direction.

If this was indeed a dream, this should comfirm or debunk it. If these twisting passages somehow managed to remain consistent when he wasn't looking at them, it'd be another solid piece of evidence that this was somehow real.

@Thunder999999@Expendable@Crusader Lord

The last thing he could remember played over and over in his head. An explosion. Loss of control. An utter worst-case scenario for an airliner. Hopeless attempts to regain control and stay in the air. A catastrophe the likes of which he had never experienced in all his time in a cockpit. The captain had stepped out a few minutes prior, leaving him alone at the controls when the disaster struck. For all his attempts to regain control, it was all futile- it went further and further down, plummeted into the ground, and then...water struck his face as he found himself on the ground, his face wet. Strange, it wasn't a water landing. Voices, then the feeling of trying to awaken him.

Was it just a dream? A pilot's nightmare of being caught in a terrible airline disaster? If only, but this wasn't his bed, and being awakened by being splashed with water was hardly normal. There were other voices beside him, protests at being splashed. And...was he still wearing a headset? Could he still be dreaming?

Surely this couldn't be the aftermath of the crash. At the speed and angle they hit the ground there was no way it was survivable, and even if it was, he definitely shouldn't feel so...intact. No pain, no numbness of lack of sensation in his limbs, not even any real discomfort aside from the water in his face.

As he opened his eyes and sat up, it was clear this was no crash site. The armored figure over him didn't look like any paramedic or emergency worker he had ever seen. The attire on him was not his uniform. The headgear upon him, it was not his headset. And the screen in front of him was not an airplane's heads-up-display.

Either he had died and gone to...wherever people go when they die, or he was currently dozing at the controls, and in either case his life was well and truly screwed.

He said nothing as he sat up, trying to ignore the status screen which followed where he looked. It looked like a cavern, and there were several others with him. The armored knight, and what appeared to be two...elves? This was neither a crash site nor a hospital. The knight and elves, the glowing fungi, it all looked like inside of a game. And the display, this status screen, it looked just like the menu of a game.

Finally looking over the status screen, he saw it provided a good deal of information. It gave a name- Javal- stats, an inventory consisting of armor and a halberd, and race, listed as "human". Indeed, the outfit he was wearing was armor and a halberd laid next to him.

Huh, it looks like I'm a Dragoon, he surmised as he took a look at his helmet (which, curiously, was not evidently projecting the screen) over his inventory, stats, and the description of the "trajectory control" skill on his status screen. This person before me must be some variety of knight. He had played enough games to be familiar with these archetype. Fitting, in a way, that the crashed pilot become an expert at falling...

As he looked over it, the realization finally dawned on him...in all his life, when dreaming he had never been able to read as cohesively as he was now. The text on the status screen made sense, and it didn't change when he eyes turned away and then back. This right here was something he had never been able to do in a dream.

But if he was dead...where were the passengers and rest of the crew? Be it afterlife or reincarnation, was he still responsible for the passengers' safety? In the very least, after his failure to save the plane, he certainly owed it to them.

Being reminded him of his duties was enough to get him up on his feet, and, with some trouble, figure out how to close the "status window".

"What's going on? Where are we? How did I get here?" he asked the knight.

@Crusader Lord@Thunder999999@Expendable
Here's my CS submission

Sentinel Irving, Sunset Sarsaparilla Headquarters, Outer Vegas

The Sentinel and his escorts trudged along, their T-51b power armor cutting a very conspicuous figure in the Mojave. It was uncommon for the Brotherhood to travel this close to New Vegas fully armed and armored, but thus far this section of the old city had remained out of the NCR's hands. The Green encroached on this region from both Camp McCarran and the Vault 22 epicenter, so few would be willing to come here, except for those poor fools seeking out rumors of the supposed "treasure" of the Star Bottle Caps.

The Brotherhood's consensus was that the "treasure" was nothing more than a pre-war promotion to convince children to waste their allowance on Sunset Sasparilla, and the "treasure" was probably something like a foam cowboy hat or a sticker shaped like a soda bottle. With no expectation of finding any worthwhile tech in the headquarters, the Brotherhood of Steel had ignored the ruin. Today, however, it would be a meeting place precisely because nobody should stumble across it.

This was a risky assignment, to travel with such a small entourage so close to the city to make contact with one of the Three Families on supposedly neutral territory. However, the Sentinel did not like to take chances, and accompanying him and his guards- both of whom were loyalists that accompanied him from back west- was a single Duraframe Eyebot, its sensors providing the HUDs of their power armor with beyond-visual range warning of any contacts. As a further precaution, a lone knight was hidden on the nearby hill with a sniper rifle, attempting to keep watch for any movement in the thick overgrowth.

As they arrived in the boardroom, the first thing that the Sentinel noticed was that the woman who greeted them was an Omerta, not a White Glove like the masked fellow who had ushered them here. This in itself was a very interesting development- the letter only gave evidence of the involvement of one of the Three Families- the Omertas' involvement meant that this involved two of House's three subordinate tribes.

"No more trouble than usual. Pleased to meet you, Omerta," Irving replied, shaking her hand with the robotic hand of his armor, very carefully as to not inflict any injuries. "I am Derek Irving, Sentinel of the Brotherhood of Steel. I must say, I was not aware that at least two of the Three Families would be involved in this meeting," he remarked, glancing at the masked concierge.

He gestured for one of his bodyguards to stand guard outside with the Eyebot. "Forgive me for not sitting down, but I don't believe the chairs were made for the weight of power armor."

Sentinel Irving, NCRCF

One of the most important lessons in the Brotherhood was that the best laid plans often went awry, thus it was essential to be able to adapt quickly to changing conditions on and off the battlefield. Even Elder McNamara, stubborn as he was to make any changes in the Brotherhood's doctrine, had firsthand experience with taking command in a disaster and salvaging the situation. In this particular situation, Irving found himself tasked with salvaging the situation that Hardin had created when he prematurely set into motion the chapter's plans for crippling the local NCR occupiers.

With Hardin and his forces heading towards the Van Graff Headquarters, it was imperative that Irving preserve the momentum of the attack and ensure that the objectives of the strike at NCRCF were met. He didn't like that it was started, but it was essential that he see it through. As an old saying went, when you strike at the king, you had better kill him. They certainly wouldn't be able to kill the foe with this strike, but they should at least be able to hamstring them.

Upon arriving at NCRCF, already heavily damaged by Hardin's attack, the Brotherhood would give demands for surrender, promising mercy for the NCR staff and garrison whom Hardin had been prepared to show no quarter to. Assuming the garrison surrendered, the Brotherhood scribes would be tasked with quickly sifting through the prison records to find everyone worth releasing. While those in the work camps would have had ample time to escape in the wake of Hardin's attacks, those still incarcerated in the cell blocks would have to be manually released. The top priority was political prisoners, those who had run afoul of the Van Graffs or Colonel Abernathy, to be released and provided an escort to one of the local towns- or if they desired, to one of the chapter's western surface outposts. The secondary priority was any whose records designated them a members of the Great Khans. Lastly, raiders and petty roughnecks willing to face the Great Khans' initiation would be sent under escort, to Red Rock Canyon. Whether they would pass or fail didn't matter. Those of no use to the Brotherhood, or those of heinous crimes, would be left in their cells for the NCR to sort out.

After stuffing the NCR staff into now-vacated cells for their colleagues to rescue, the Brotherhood departed, causing further damage to the perimeter fences as they left. As evidenced by the fate suffered by the so-called Powder Gangers shortly before the NCR's complete takeover, the prison was unsuitable for defending against the might of the NCR's armed forces.


Head Paladin Hardin, Van Graff Headquarters

"Rapier Squad, concentrate fire on that Sentry bot! Max-charge your shots and aim for the chest! Halberd Squad, keep your distance!" Hardin barked on the comms as he unleased a hail of plasma at the Van Graff security bots barring their way. It wasn't unexpected that the Van Graffs would put up a fight. Hardin had hoped to catch them off-guard, but they had clearly been prepared for a fight. As the NCR's new masters, they were probably among the first to receive word of the attack on NCRCF, but once they were inside, it might be wise to have a field scribe take a look at the building's comms to confirm how deeply the Van Graffs had ingrained themselves into the local NCR occupation's inner workings.

Despite the massive bucket of bolts proving to be a formidable obstacle, it could not delay the warriors of the Brotherhood for long. Under concentrated laser, plasma, and coilgun fire, its defenses failed, and it exploded in a spectacular fireball. Undeterred by the deafening and blinding blast, Hardin and his Paladins advanced into the building.

"Snipers, keep an eye on the perimeter and keep us posted if you see anything!" he ordered. If the Van Graffs were to attempt to escape through a back entrance, or if someone sent help, they would need to know immediately. As much as the Sentinel and Elder welcomed the use of the duraframe eyebots for surveillance and scouting, Hardin preferred to place his trust in the eyes and scopes of veteran Knights. Over half the chapter had been lost because their fool of a former Elder had hinged their hopes of victory entirely on unproven technology at HELIOS One, and he would not make the same mistake.

Room by room, corridor by corridor, the Brotherhood's power armored warriors fought their way through the building. If there was one thing that the "Sentinel" hadn't screwed up entirely, it was giving the men men and women opportunity to build combat experience with his incursions into the Green. The Brotherhood lived and died by the superior skill of its warriors, and VR simulations could never prepare them for real combat.

The sound of an explosion suddenly sounded not far from his position. He knew right away that was not the sound of a Graff thug's plasma rifle.

"Hardin, this is Sabre Squad, we've got a problem," a voice sounded on the radio. "The Van Graffs left a Sentry Bot in the armory, and it's already taken out Jacobs."

"We're on our way, try and lure it towards our position." Hardin signaled for his warriors to follow behind. Battling Sentry Bots inside the cramped quarters of a pre-war building was always a challenge.

"Hardin, the Van Graffs are escaping through the rear entrance. Your orders?"

"Halberd Squad, pursue them! I've got another problem to deal with," he ordered, just as he and his squad reached the battle with the Sentry. These things always came up at the most disadvantageous times in battle.

The Sentry Bot fired a missile, striking a retreating Sabre Squad Paladin square in the chest and bringing chunks of ceiling down on him. Hardin and his squad opened fire on the Sentry, drawing its fire. Plasma fire burned through its chestplate, disabled its missile arm, and finally it exploded, demolishing the adjacent wall sections and bringing the above floor down onto it.

"Hardin, Halberd Squad here. The remaining Van Graffs have fled into the wasteland. What are your orders?"

"Rapier Squad, did you spot Gloria among those retreating?"

"Negative, Head Paladin, none that matched her description." Hopefully that meant that Gloria would be among one of the corpses in the building. If she did fall, it wasn't guaranteed that they'd be able to recognize her body- plasma and lasers weapons didn't always leave enough remains to identify.

"Rapier Squad, keep us posted. Everyone else, secure the building. Take out any guards or bots left, and begin salvage. Prioritize energy weapons and Fusion Cores, we have only a limited window before the NCR will retaliate."

His warriors had taken losses, but this was a victory today- a victory that McNamara and Irving had always been too timid to seize. With news of this victory, he hoped the Brotherhood would be directed back onto the correct path.


Sentinel Irving, Hidden Valley Bunker

Irving sat at a desk, pondering the events that had occurred. The attack on the Van Graffs had yielded casualties, but the Head Paladin had managed to send his foe into retreat and secured a decent bounty of tech. Likewise, the attack on the NCRCF had allowed them to free a number of prisoners, although the fallout from that would not be as immediately quantifiable as Hardin's work at the Van Graff compound. They'd have to wait and see what effect it would have for the NCR's critics to be once again free to stir discontent.

Hardin's bold attack had won him considerable prestige within the chapter. Already there were some who were speaking that he had given the Brotherhood the kick it needed, or even that McNamara should step down as Elder. Perhaps most tellingly, even Irving was wondering if Hardin was right.

"Sentinel, we've installed the eyebot interfaces to the bunker's security terminal," spoke a scribe as she entered the room.

"Excellent work, scribe. Dismissed." One of his side projects at the bunker was the installation of interface ports for the Duraframe Eyebots. Most of the reverse-engineered Brotherhood models lacked the hacking capabilities, but Irving had brought him one electronic warfare Eyebot fitted with the necessary software and transceiver to perform decryptions. It wasn't a perfect system- it required a comparible receiver to be attached to the computer- but it ought to allow the scribes to bypass computer security much more quickly in the field. In the particular case of the security terminal, if anything went wrong with the bunker's security, the eyebot could be directed to set it right.

"Sentinel, Head Paladin, see me in my quarters," McNamara's voice spoke on the intercom as the scribe left. Irving shrugged, logged out of the computer terminal, and made his way to the Elder's office.

Irving took his seat next to Hardin, who had already arrived.

"Good to see you both here. Let's get straight to business: because of our recent successful operations, and the conflict with the NCR heating up, we will be forced to assume more responsibility than you have become accustomed to. Head Paladin, I need you overseeing our combat operations. The NCR and Van Graffs will retaliate and escalate, and we must be ready. As for you, Sentinel, you will continue to handle the more unconventional duties that you have thus far been spearheading- coordinating with our allies, managing diplomatic matters with the Mojave's many factions, and managing the operations to study and combat The Green. Do either of you have any questions?"


"No, Elder,"

"Good, because one such unconventional matter has already arisen. Earlier today a message arrived for me, courtesy of the Sentinel's friends on the surface. See for yourself," the Elder spoke as he showed the letter to his subordinates. Irving and Hardin both looked over it carefully.

"I recognize the token, it's the White Glove Society," Hardin remarked. "One of the Three Families, House's pet tribals. It sounds like they are beginning to chafe under NCR rule."

"Yes, and they want our help. Our operations must have made a considerable impression on them," Irving replied.

"No doubt the White Gloves have their own agenda," McNamara spoke, "but I see no harm in opening dialogue with them. Our contact in Freeside will see to it that they receive their reply. You are both dismissed."
Fleuri Jodeau

"It sounds like a good diversion from training, I'd be glad to attend it," Fleuri remarked as he attempted to divert Florian's attacks away from him. He was quite curious about this festival- how much of it was Merilia's making, and how much of it was the doing of the inhabitants of her world.

It made Fleuri wonder about the inhabitants- about their existence, about their ability to have felt their real world counterparts up until death, about what it'd be like to be an artificial duplicate living endlessly in Merilia's magical sandbox. It made him wonder- would any of the current Roses, aside from immortals like Tyaethe and Lilette- reach enough greatness or simply catch Merilia's sufficient interest be immortalized by a duplicate in this world?

He couldn't ponder too hard on it, though- he was still sparring with Florian.

@Raineh Daze
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