Prizrak

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Sara Weaver
Salem, Massachusetts



Sara awoke early, well before the sun. She had a trip to make today and it would be a good 3 hours south. It was her hope that by leaving as early as she planned to she would miss everyone but the person she intended to meet. Her camp-site was situated well to the north of Salem, she figured it was around 12 miles. Salem was the closest settlement to her campsite but it didn’t matter to her. She had kept to herself up in the woods away from everyone else, only coming back to civilization to trade off excess supplies or look for her sister. Something she had been doing for what felt like forever, and her spirit was starting to waver. Eliza’s trail vanished months ago since then Sara’s been chasing ghosts, she was just hoping they weren’t literal ghosts.

Regardless she was burning precious time. She had accumulated some extra meat and supplies from her hunts. Game was plentiful this far north, away from civilization but life up here came with it’s own sets of dangers. Anyone that lived this far away was on their own, there was no law and definitely no minutemen in this territory. That served Sara just fine, she was left alone and could socialize when she wanted to and she could hunt to her heart's content. With her contact in Salem to sell her excess to she had a pretty good set up, but she couldn’t lose sight of why she was out here. She couldn’t settle down until she knew for sure what happened to her sister, and her housing reflected that attitude. Sara had set up camp in a dilapidated house seemingly dropped from the sky and into the barren forest of skeleton trees. It wasn’t the sturdiest structure but it served it’s purpose.

Finally shaking off the chains of slumber Sara crawled out of her sleeping bag, exposing her lithe nude frame. She wasn’t able to clean herself that often so smears and specks of dirt and grime covered her body. Shambling up and off the couch she was sleeping on Sara grabbed a ragged t-shirt from her makeshift clothes line and pulled it over her bare skin. Her perky breasts clearly silhouetted through the fabric. She wiped what was left of the crust from her eyes and retrieved a pair of worn jeans from her clothes line as well. Clumsily hiking them up without trying to lose her balance. She then tucked her t-shirt into her pants, further accentuating what was underneath. Her pants sagged loosely under her hips, it had been awhile since she could find a pair that fit her. Without a proper fit she used her belt to hold her pants up before she grabbed a flannel button down shirt as well, rolling the sleeves up past her elbows. Her clothes were well worn, some had holes, others had patches were there used to be holes. Either way they were all faded and dirty. Life in the wasteland didn’t leave much time for cleanliness, at least not for Sara who was now comfortably dressed. She plopped back down onto the couch again, grabbing her leather boots and socks that were stuffed inside of them. Her boots had seen better days as well but they still held together, they were built to last and Sara could appreciate that.

With her socks on and her boots laced Sara started gathering her gear for the trip. Her backpack would be doing most of the work but she still had cuts of cured meat wrapped in burlap that would need to be carried. Fortunately she packed everything she needed to take with her the night before so she grabbed her bag, hefting the loaded pack over her shoulder. Her rifle was next, she slung it over her other shoulder. Before she grabbed the meat Sara ran her hands through her greasy hair, unsure if she had everything but she was certain of it. When it came to packing gear Sara was meticulous, all she needed now was her pistol. She ejected the magazine to make sure it was loaded, slid it back inside, pulled the slide back and put on her safety. Everything was in order except for her jacket, which she almost forgot in her rush to leave. She sat her gear down and grabbed her trusty leather jacket, the mornings were getting colder for her so she especially needed the jacket. Now one hundred percent confident that she had everything Sara headed down out of the house and into the forest, she had a long hike ahead of her but she’s walked it a dozen times before.

In about 3 hours time Sara was regrettably in Salem. She didn’t mind Ace and Barney, their company was a welcome change from the usual. It was everyone else that suddenly started moving into town that bothered her. Too many people, meant that there were soon going to be too many problems. Sara didn’t mind chatting with Ace, and the man was a pretty good cook but Sara enjoyed living alone. You couldn’t pay her to stay here, Salem was just a place to stop by and treat herself to some food, and maybe make a few caps. She couldn’t make it a home.

Wiping the sweat that had accumulated on her brow from the hike down Sara walked into Ace’s diner ignoring the sign on the roof and especially the people inside. She didn’t want to be bothered, and at first she contemplated just heading back home but she wasn’t going to waste a trip. Ace was inside and that’s all she needed, and it looked like he had a girlfriend now to. Sara wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to subsequently alert Ace of her presence and be a smartass. “You get a new piece of ass Ace!? I thought I was your favourite? Or did you forget about me?” Sara cracked a smile and moved to the booth furthest away from everyone before she sat all of her gear down and waited for Ace to come over to her. She didn’t want to be in the way, plus the further away she was from the others the less likely they would be to talk to her...hopefully.

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Sara Weaver

Sara Weaver

Gender: Female

Real Age: 37

Age Appearance: Appears to be in her late 20’s to early 30’s

Birth-date: July 18th, 2254

Birthplace: Caliente, Nevada

Personal Evaluation

Occupation: Wastelander, Hunter, Survivalist, Raider

Work Ethic: Driven, and highly motivated. Sara’s willing to do what it takes to survive, no matter the cost. She’s ignored her conscience in order to keep herself alive since she was a young woman. Her life experiences have made her into a terrifying opponent, that isn’t easily dissuaded or beaten into submission.

Experience: Like everyone that’s survived in the wasteland Sara has gotten very good at surviving. Having been forced out onto her own she’s learned not to rely on others for support, this coupled with her innate sense of independence make Sara someone who is capable of sustaining herself without any outside support.

Organizations/Affiliations: Independent, Raider

Style: Tends to wear practical clothing, preferring flannel shirts, and jeans. Most of her clothes are worn out and in tatters but she refuses to change them. She only replaces her clothing if it reaches a state of disrepair that renders it unrepairable, or useless. Although one article of clothing that has been with her for years is her leather pilot's jacket.

Preferred Weapons: Carries a hunting knife along with an un-scoped .308 bolt action hunting rifle, and a .45 colt 1911. All of her weapons have certainly seen centuries of conflict and their appearances reflect that. While they’re worn down and clearly used Sara maintains them as well as she can.

Habits and Mannerisms: Occasionally smokes cigarettes to help with her anxiety, chooses to drink soda over alcohol. She never acquired the taste for alcohol and more often than not will turn her nose up at it.

Medical Evaluation

Ethnicity: American/Caucasian

Blood Type: o+

Preferred Hand: Right Handed

Eye Color: Light blue/steel gray

Hair Color: Dark brown/auburn

Hairstyle: Hair is kept either let down, in a bun, or ponytail depending on the situation.

Skin Tone: White with freckling and tanning from prolonged exposure to the sun.

Complexion: Fair, usually burns, then tans.

Body Type: Mesomorph

Build: Strong athletic body type, muscular build, well-developed shoulders, and slim hips.

Height: 5’11” (180cm)

Weight: 136 lbs (61kg)

Cup Size: A

Shoe Size: 9

Birthmarks/scars:

Multiple scars scattered around the body, most of them congregating on her back. They appear to be scars associated with flagellation, but most of them have healed signifying that they were caused years ago.

Energy: Extremely active metabolism, doesn’t tend to stay inactive. Enjoys exercise and is constantly doing something.

Senses: Like all people in the wasteland Sara keeps her wits about her. She’s a very alert and very suspicious person that doesn’t trust people very easily. Years of hunting and living in the wilderness have honed her awareness of her surroundings. Making it much easier for her to detect even the slightest disturbances around her.

Addictions: N/A

Expressiveness: Very quiet and reserved, she chooses not to speak with too many people. Although when approached she’ll talk but she isn’t very forthcoming, and is extremely sceptical of others. Sara also tends to bottle up her emotions in an attempt to move past them. This has led to her having sudden emotional outbursts although she tends to keep them private. Although compared to her sisters Sara is a firebrand, she was the hell raiser and the one that didn't back down from a fight. Except now she's learned to temper herself and tries her best to stay out of trouble.

Biographical Summary

Sold into slavery by her parents at a young age Sara was robbed of the chance at a normal life. She felt betrayed and abandoned by the only people in the whole wasteland that were supposed to protect her. When her parents were killed she didn’t find out about it until much later, and the state of her sisters were unknown. Sara regretted not being there for them, and over the years her heart continued to burn with an unbridled hatred for her parents and the situation she was in. Once she reached a suitable age she became the “personal” slave for a raider warlord. Having endured his abuse and violation for too long Sara strangled him in his sleep, sawed off his head and claimed herself as the new warlord of the gang. Fuelled by her hatred and discontent Sara lead the raiders across the wasteland slaughtering and pillaging where they could. Eventually this drew the attention of Caesar’s Legion and her gang was all but eradicated. Once again Sara was cast out into the wasteland, abandoned and alone. It was during this time that she suffered from a mental break, after finally realizing all of the horrible things she allowed herself to do out of spite.

Staying on her own and keeping contact with others to a minimum Sara decided that she needed to look for her sisters. Her youngest sister Charlotte was the one she found first, she was delusional and had clearly endured some sort of trauma since they had last seen each other. Charlotte didn’t even remember her, and refused to admit that they were sisters. It was here that Charlotte told Sara that Eliza had fled out east and been killed, blaming her for the loss of their parents. As much as Sara wanted too she had a hard time believing Charlotte, and headed out in search of Eliza following her trail east. Her sisters were her only motivation now, her parents had long since been forgotten to her, and her life as a raider was something she struggled to move past. With Charlotte seemingly incapable of realizing the situation they were in Lori hoped that she was wrong and that Eliza was still alive. She could barely remember what Eliza looked like after all of the time they spent apart but her heart ached to see her sister again. The two of them were inseparable as girls, and Sara hoped that if they reunited that they would never be separated again. For once in her life Sara was filled with anxiety. She was afraid that Eliza may actually be dead, or that she would be as far gone as Charlotte was. Sara wasn’t even sure if they would recognize each other but she needed to find her, she needed to reconcile all the time they spent apart.

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Eliza Weaver
Salem, Massachusetts



When Eliza came to she had a hard time making sense of where she was at. Her head was still filled with an obnoxious haze that prevented her from getting a clear focus on anything. All of the events from the night before seemed like nothing but a lucid dream to her. With the only thing being certain was Shelby’s return, and that was only because she awoke to Shelby curled up alongside of her. Eliza was slow to rise seeing as how her body was still totally exhausted but she tried her best to shake off the shackles of her slumber. When Shelby and the doctor spoke to her she could hear what they were saying but it took her a moment to truly take it in. Unsure if she could form a coherent sentence in her current state of post sleep delirium Eliza found another way to signal to Shelby that she was still with her. She interlaced their fingers together and firmly gripped Shelby’s hand in hers. Eliza felt much warmer today than she remembered feeling the night before, but her pain still haunted her. It was not nearly as severe as it was before. Instead it transformed into a dull, lingering pain that didn’t seem to go away. Eliza figured that if she tried to move it would make the pain worse so instead of trying to re-position herself in bed she took a moment to wipe the crust from her eyes.

Feeling much more alert than she initially did Eliza was able to work up a response to the doctor. “I’m still feeling a little out of it doctor, so I don’t think a few more hours will hurt.” Eliza paused for a brief moment as she tried to regain her focus, before she continued. “No offense to you doctor but I don’t want to stay in this clinic any longer than I have to. I’m not really sure of who I can trust in this town and I’d feel safer at home.” Eliza started to sweat from the warmth of Shelby against her so she removed the blanket from her body, leaving Shelby covered. With the covers removed Eliza could finally realize just how much of a toll the last few months had taken on her body. In comparison to Shelby’s healthy and fit physique Eliza looked weak, and frail. She had tried to keep herself healthy but the months of constant stress and anxiety had clearly ravaged Eliza’s body. Eliza was ashamed of herself, she was always the one that took care of herself and now who was she? Her body was covered in dried grime and blood, she felt horrible. Fortunately for her Shelby was there and just her presence alone helped Eliza maintain her composure. “As long as Shelby stays I’ll be more comfortable here. Nothing against you doctor. I’m thankful for what you’ve done for me so far…..I’m just a little anxious around strangers.”

Eliza took a moment to work up the courage for what she was about to say. Just the fact that she had to ask made her feel like a child. “Do you think I would be able to get cleaned up?” I look like I just crawled out of a grave, and judging by how I feel. I think I might have.” Eliza’s spunk was slowly coming back to her but her strength was not nearly as resilient, and it tore her apart. It wasn’t in her nature to let someone else take care of her, but now she didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t bring herself back to the woman she was before…..she needed Shelby now more than ever.

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Thomas Kater
Salem, Massachusetts



Tom looked at the ground for a moment before looking at Shelby again. He understood where her emotions were taking her but he was still caught off guard by the outburst. He placed his hat back on his head. Shelby was obviously a woman Tom didn’t want to cross, she reminded him a lot of Eliza when he first met her. Now he didn’t fear Eliza like he used to, he was worried for her instead. It had been so long since he had seen her but from what he had gathered over the last few months she had gone over the edge. Even her physical appearance was drastically different from what Tom remembered. She obviously lost a lot of weight, and she was not nearly as well kept as she used to be. The Eliza he remembered would be the cleanest person in the unit. Even if they were on campaign for months on end. Now he could see she hadn’t been maintaining herself nearly as well. He just hoped that when she came to that she would be able to cope with what had happened. Shelby appeared to be strong but Tom couldn’t help but contemplate her ability to help Eliza. He doubted himself and he had known Eliza for far longer. Tom contemplated saying something to Shelby about it but he held his tongue on the issue.

“I understand. I’ve hurt her enough already. I just wanted to make sure she was okay. I’ve already buried one friend today…..I don’t think I could bury another.” Tom made his way out of the room, he was defeated. Shelby obviously cared for Eliza more than he did, he had to trust that she would take care of her. He had come all of this way for something he’d never get. Eliza could never forgive him for leaving, the damage was done. All he could do now was move on and let Eliza do the same, he was just another reminder of how horrible things had been for her. She had the chance at a new life now and Tom didn’t want to deny her that. He opened the door and started to leave but he stopped and said something to Shelby. “Take good care of her alright? She’s not nearly as strong as she used to be.” Before Shelby could respond Tom was out the door.

He made his way to his horse and untied it before heading out of town and back to Bragg’s grave. Tom fished a musty bottle of whiskey from his saddle bag and collapsed into the dirt alongside Bragg’s grave. He popped the cork out of the bottle and took a long swig. “All of this way….and for what? I should have just stayed out west. All I’ve managed to do since I left was let everyone down.” Tom couldn’t help but see the images of all of the people he fought with. He couldn’t remember what they looked like before they died, all he could remember was their horrifying faces….their mangled corpses. Taking another swig Tom tossed the bottle and collapsed onto his back into the dirt. “She’s better off without me.”

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Thomas Kater
Salem, Massachusetts



“Thank you sir.” Tom quickly headed out of the diner. On his way out it dawned on him that all of Eliza’s gear was on her horse. He stopped and unfastened the straps on the leather saddlebags. Inside were most of the things he would assume Eliza needed to survive, her hat, duster, underwear, revolver, ammunition. Something definitely wasn’t right, this whole thing reeked of a trap. Tom pulled his piece from it’s holster and checked the cylinder to confirm it was loaded, he placed it back into his holster and headed off towards the church leaving the horses tied up by the diner. He was keeping his hand close to his revolver, something wasn’t sitting right with Tom. It was like he was missing something, like there was another piece to the puzzle. Regardless Tom had a lead and he had to take it, the man behind the counter didn’t seem like the kind of guy to bullshit him at first glance but he was still on his toes as he entered the church.

On his way in he passed two people, a man and a woman. Both of them gave off bad vibes to Tom but maybe it was because he was on edge. He just walked past them acknowledging that he seen them.
“Evening.” Tom was short and headed towards the partially opened door checking over his shoulder to see if the duo was following him. He creaked the door open and he froze in his tracks at what he saw. Initially he recoiled at the sight too afraid to come to terms with what he might find, but Tom found enough courage to go inside. His voice was weaker than it normally was, and for a man of his pedigree fear was something he rarely felt but it was clear in his voice. “Eliza?” There was another woman knelt beside the bed comforting Eliza that drew Tom’s attention for a brief moment. He didn’t know anyone to treat Eliza the way the woman was, and he didn’t know Eliza to take to it. She must be in really bad shape, or her and the woman were close. “Eliza it’s me...Dutch.” Tom paused before he said who he was, still filled with the guilt of leaving her and the Riders behind.

Eliza and the woman slowly turned to face him, Eliza was having a hard time of it but she tried. She was obviously weak as her voice was severely strained and quiet. “Dutch?” He removed his hat and held it over his heart while he knelt down beside the bed, nodding to the woman and sharing a look of concern with her. Tom placed his free hand on Eliza’s shoulder. “It’s me Lizzy.” He tried to crack a smile as if he was remembering a better time, but tears started to gather in the corner of his eyes. Eliza looked at him with broken eyes. She hadn’t seen the man in front of her for years, and she was still having a hard time believing that it was actually him. “I can’t believe you’re here. I thought you were never coming back.”

Tom placed his hand on Eliza’s head, gently brushing her hair in an attempt to comfort her. “I know I rode off on my own path Eliza, but it lead me back to you. I just wish I had gotten here sooner.” Eliza grinned at his retort before she closed her eyes again and exhaled slowly, shivering in the process. She was obviously too weak to do much of anything so Tom turned his attention to the woman alongside of him. Her face was red and streaked with tears, Tom gently placed his arm around her shoulders patting her back. He didn’t really think about what he was doing, he was just acting off of instinct. “I’m Dutch. We used to...work together. I take it you’re close to Liz...sorry Eliza? Sometimes I forget she doesn’t like to be called that.”

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Thomas Kater
Salem, Massachusetts



This was it, the sleepy ruins of Salem where the trail finally ended. Thomas had been following it for too long with each sign of Eliza and her pursuer filling his heart with dread. He had seen so much death on his journey here, so many of his comrades gunned down and left to rot in the dirt. Out of respect he gave each one of them the burials they deserved in doing so he noticed that all of their dog-tags had been claimed. He had hoped that meant Eliza made it this far but how long could she run? It had been at least a year since he picked up the trail in Utah. Eliza was tough but a year in this country without proper rest would take it’s toll on anyone, even her. Now Thomas was just looking for bodies and with them answers.


Coming from the north side of town Thomas quickly fell upon the sign of a struggle much like the ones he found on his way here. Eliza was a fighter, and whoever was tracking her down was making her bleed for it. Spatters of blood littered the field he and his horse were standing in. His heart sunk as he assumed the worst. Thomas dismounted his horse and knelt down in the muck to better investigate the scene. There were two sets of footprints just like there had been since they crossed the Mississippi. Where the rest of the Rough Riders gave their life’s in an attempt to buy Eliza time. Thomas followed the trail and the blood towards the sea, a light wind blew in off the water and carried with it the all too familiar stench of death. Thomas dropped the reigns for his horse and bolted towards the shore, stumbling over his feet as he struggled to stay upright in the muck. His heart was beating a mile a minute, and he was afraid to see who he found at the end of the trail. After all this time Tom would’ve gave anything for it not to be Eliza. He regretted every day since he left his life with the Riders behind, now more than ever. He couldn’t help but beat himself up over the idea that maybe things would’ve been different if he was there when his comrades were attacked.


Here he was….if he found Eliza in this puddle of blood Tom wasn’t sure if he could walk away from her, not again. She was the only one that really cared for him, and he re-payed her with betrayal. Tom removed his hat and held it over his face in an attempt to shield himself from the stench before he slowly peeked out from behind it. It wasn’t her, it was August Bragg. They rode together when they were kids, busted rocks in the chain-gangs, and joined the Riders together. Finding Bragg laying in the mud was a blow to the gut. Thomas balled his fists in anger and kicked his old friends corpse in anger.


“You son of a bitch! After everything these people did for us!? Fuck!” Tom fell to his knees alongside Bragg’s corpse staring into his lifeless eyes, frozen in terror. He couldn’t contain his emotions and started to tremble and cry. “All these miles and I didn’t once think it would be you. What did I do when I walked away?” Tom scooped his hand underneath Bragg's corpse and lifted him into his arms. He carried him to the base of a tree with a broken limb and began to dig a grave with the shovel from his horse. When he was finished he gently laid Bragg at the bottom, closing his eyes, placing two caps in his hand, and laying his hat on his chest before saying some final words. “You were my brother. After all we had been through together I never thought this would be how things went down.” Tom paused for a moment as he grabbed a shovel full of dirt. “I just hope it was worth it brother.”


After shovel after shovel full of dirt Bragg’s grave was filled in. Tom grabbed a rock from nearby to mark the spot and grabbed his horse. He still had to find Eliza, she must have been the one that killed Bragg. After all this time he was still afraid to face her. He loved her desperately but never confessed it to her, it wasn’t his place. Things between them could never be like he wanted them to, and he had a feeling Eliza knew how he felt. She could tell when he got anxious around her, she was too smart not to know. Regardless Tom came here to atone for his sins, and Eliza was the only one that could absolve him. His quarrel was with her, not God.
When Tom got into town he quickly spotted Eliza’s spotted horse outside the diner. His heart began to race again as he wiped the sweat and grime from his brow, his hands trembled and his legs felt like they were about to give out on him. He still made his way to the diner tying his horse alongside hers, but he noticed the blood covering Eliza’s horse and immediately knew something was wrong.


“Hey buddy. You remember me right?” Tom gently brushed the horse’s snout. “What happened huh? What do you know?” The horse gently nuzzled Tom with it’s snout, recognizing him from before. Tom rubbed the top of it’s snout again before he headed inside for answers. Things seemed rather busy inside, it wasn’t Tom’s scene there were too many people and none of them resembled Eliza. He still headed inside and walked up to the counter where a man was scrambling to serve all of his patrons. Tom ignored all of the background noise and chatter, but politely waited until the man wasn’t busy.


“Excuse me sir!? You wouldn’t know anything about that horse outside would you?” Tom’s voice was friendly but his concern was poorly masked by his manners. "I'm looking for his owner. She would've been dressed similar to me, with her hat pinned on one side. She's not really talkative but you'd have a hard time forgetting her."

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Prizrak, this is what you sent me yesterday right? I'm good with it.

@f8lcobra

I just tweaked a few things in regards to his past, but yes it's the same sheet.

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Thomas Kater

Thomas Kater

Gender: Male

Real Age: 37

Age Appearance: Appears to be in his late 30’s or early 40’s

Birth-date: October 7th, 2253

Birthplace: Bonnie Claire, Nevada

Personal Evaluation

Occupation: Mercenary

Work Ethic: Tom is a hard working man but very rarely does anything without the proper motivation. He needs to either believe in what he’s doing or be getting paid enough to believe in it. Although once put on a task Tom is hard to dissuade from completing it.

Experience: Rode with a gang of cattle rustlers and raiders in his early years. Spent time incarcerated in an NCR labour camp before escaping. Served with Eliza Weaver and her Rough Riders after escaping NCR custody. Tom is a damn fine rustler. He can shoot just as well as a trained soldier, survive off the land, bullshit his way out of a confrontation, and fight his way out one if he fails.

Organizations/Affiliations: Formerly affiliated with the Rough Riders, he parted ways with the mercenaries and went freelance.

Preferred Weapons: Colt .45 Single Action Army, although Tom has a better shot with a rifle.

Habits and Mannerisms:

Medical Evaluation

Ethnicity: American/Caucasian

Blood Type:

Preferred Hand: Right Handed

Eye Color: Light blue

Hair Color: Dark brown

Hairstyle: Trimmed short and well kept.

Facial Hair: Clean shaven with only the occasional scruff.

Skin Tone: Pale white with some tanning.

Complexion:

Body Type: Mesomorph

Build: Strong athletic body type, muscular build, well-developed shoulders and slim hips.

Height: 5’11” (180cm)

Weight: 153 lbs (69kg)

Shoe Size: 10

Birthmarks/scars:

Energy: Not nearly as motivated as he could be. Tom has enough energy, and is in good enough shape that he doesn’t get worn out very easily and can work harder and longer than most people. Although he would much rather spend most of his time relaxing. Either reading, writing, or playing guitar.

Senses: Tom is pretty good at reading people’s body language and adapting his personality to better the situation. He’s also gotten very good at sensing trouble, whether it’s an actual skill of his or just dumb luck has yet to be determined but he swears by his gut.

Addictions: Regularly smokes cigarettes, rarely drinks alcohol.

Mental Disorders: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Insomnia.

Attitude: Calm, and reserved Tom isn’t normally the one to start trouble. He keeps to himself when he can but has no problem making new friends or sharing a drink with a stranger.

Biographical Summary

Tom was orphaned as an infant having lost both of his parents to tuberculosis. A local mission took him in and raised him until he was a teenager. At that point Tom had become restless and developed one hell of a mean streak. He wanted to get out and explore the world, he was tired of staying within the confounds of the mission. So the missionaries let him leave, once he left Tom quickly fell into trouble. Deciding that the best way to earn his fame and fortunes was behind the barrel of a gun. Young and reckless Tom took to the lifestyle of a desperado pretty quickly.

He rode with a gang for the greater part of his teenage years, causing havoc for the local citizens of the NCR and independent ranchers. Eventually his gang was caught. Most of them were hung while some of them like Tom were thrown into a chain-gang building the railroad for the NCR. He was to work in the gangs until he died and for a few years he thought that’s what his fate was, until word got around that a band of mercenaries called the Rough Riders were raising hell in the southwest. Tom didn’t know much about them besides what he heard in stories from the other convicts but he knew enough to know that he wanted a piece of the action.

Over the next few months Tom and a few other convicts plotted their escape. Under the cover of a riot Tom slipped out and headed into the desert. He didn’t know where he was going or how he would get there but he was going to find the Rough Riders. Eventually he bumped into Eliza pouring enough booze down her throat to embalm her whole body. At the time he didn’t know who she was, to him she just seemed like a woman who had found some hard times. He drank with her, and gave her someone to talk to. The poor woman was wasted and she spilled some of the horrible things that had happened to her onto Tom. He immediately felt sympathy for her, and when she told him who she was Tom’s desire to join the Rough Riders was galvanized. There was something about Eliza that he couldn’t resist, she was beautiful and Tom definitely wouldn’t turn down a night or two with her but there was something more about her. He couldn’t pin down what it was but he couldn’t escape it.

Eliza was more than willing to let him join the Rough Riders but he had to go through the rigorous entry process just like everyone else. It was much more difficult than Tom ever could have imagined and he learned right quick that these weren’t your everyday cattle rustlers. If he completed his training he would be riding with professionals, men and women who were at their peak. At first Tom was afraid that he was getting into something that he wasn’t sure he wanted. After all he had only ever ridden with criminals and hustlers, people with no claim to fame but the amount of women they’ve raped and men they’ve killed. But the Rough Riders changed him, gave him something to strive for. He admired everyone that earned the title, and gave everything he had to earn it himself, and earn it he did. Tom was amazing, he didn’t quit, and he gave everything he had in his training and long after that while he rode with the Riders.

It was this dedication that drew Eliza’s interest in him. She seen a part of her in Tom, he was motivated, dedicated, and fiercely loyal. All of those quality's earned him a spot close to Eliza. At first Tom didn’t know how to react, to be so close to someone he admired meant everything to him and over the years he and Eliza grew close. Their relationship was never sexual, even though Tom wanted it to be. He knew that if it wasn’t meant to be then it wasn’t going to happen. So the two of them became very close, closer than anyone had ever gotten to Eliza. She seen him as family, and Tom seen her as family as well. It was this relationship that kept Tom close to Eliza. They served well together and Eliza enjoyed having someone so close to her that she could relate to. Unfortunately Tom parted ways with the Rough Riders, at some point he lost interest the lifestyle of a mercenary. He had no one he loved, and no place to call home. Tom had started to feel the need to settle down and build a life for himself before he couldn’t. So he took to freelance work to support himself and struck out into the wasteland looking for a life. Years had past and there was no sign of Tom settling down, he found out pretty quickly that he didn’t mix well with women. Just talking with one turned him into a bundle of nerves, so he had all but gave up on finding someone to spend the rest of his life with. Once he got word that Eliza Weaver and the Rough Riders had been wiped clean off the face of the earth Tom abandoned all plans of settling down. He refused to believe that they were all dead, so he took back to the lonesome trails of the wasteland. In search of the only woman he’d ever been close to.

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Eliza Weaver
Salem, Massachusetts



Eliza couldn’t believe that it was actually her, after all this time it was her. What tears Eliza had left to cry slowly trickled down her exhausted face. She mustered enough strength to speak but her words were soft and her tone was forlorn. “Shelby?” Her voice was weak and it was clear that she was trying as hard as she could just to speak. “All of this time, and here you are.” Eliza struggled to hold Shelby’s hand but she managed to, even if her grip was feeble and cold. “I missed you so much…..I’m so sorry.”

Shelby’s grip was much different than Eliza’s, it was warm and strong, bringing Eliza comfort she had long since given up on finding. “You’re all I have left Shelby…..everyone else…they’re dead.” Eliza started to weep uncontrollably, her emotions were starting to overwhelm her. “I'm so sorry.......” She couldn’t speak any more, her body had reached it’s breaking point. Her eyes shut for what felt like the first time in her life while her shallow breathing continued. Eliza had someone to live for again, and the life that person meant for her but death still sought it's quarry. Except Eliza no longer embraced her death, she didn't want to die......not now.

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Eliza Weaver
Salem, Massachusetts



A heavy groan escaped Eliza’s lungs as the man picked her up from her bed and threw her over his shoulders. During the process a sharp pain from her abdomen caused her to reel in pain and let out an exhausted grunt as she clenched her teeth and waited for it to subside, but every step and bump sent a searing pain through her body. Her greatest fear was that the wound had busted open again and that she had started bleeding again. She had already lost too much blood, anymore and she would definitely die. At least she was able to find some solace in the fact that she was being transported to some sort of clinic. Unsure of what state a clinic this far from civilization would be in. Eliza figured her odds would be better with any doctor, than on her own. Even with Lorelei to help her there was only so much that could be done.

As they exited the apartment building Eliza was certain that her abdomen was bleeding again, with there being a sudden sensation of warmth radiating from around the site of her wound. Even with the warm spot Eliza was still freezing, now more than ever. She was only wearing her panties with a soiled shirt making the cooling temperature of the coastal town much colder to the exhausted woman. Eliza could tell that she had yet to escape death’s frigid grasp. “What was this all for? All of this effort, for me….why? Wouldn’t it have better to finally die? I stubbornly cling to this life like it has anything left to give me. I’ve reached the end of the line…everyone else has gone. It’s just me now, just me.” Eliza hung on those last words. “Just me….. yep, that's all there was now. I made sure of that. So why I’m I so stubborn? Death is my only salvation, the only way to absolve my soul from my sins. Just stop fighting Eliza! Give up! Your day has come, just let go and all your pain will go away.” Eliza’s breathing had slowed down dramatically with puffs of frigid breaths being the only immediate indication that she was still breathing at all. Her eyes hung heavy as she slowly started to drift off into unconsciousness.

“Shelby…!”

Eliza’s reaction to the familiar name was slow in her current state. She could barely make out what the man was saying but when she raised her head to catch a glimpse at his she couldn’t help but feel like she recognized him. Her heart began to race as if she should remember him but she couldn’t, not now at least. It was becoming too difficult for her to keep her eyes open but with what little focus she had left Eliza locked her eyes onto the man. She must of known him because now he was stopped dead in his tracks staring back at her like he had seen a ghost. Eliza’s head slumped down over Steve’s shoulder and she zoned out. Everything from that point on was a blur, she only heard the occasional footsteps from the man carrying her and with her eyes closed from exhaustion she couldn't see anything. It wasn’t until she was laid out onto another bed that she slowly opened her eyes again and sighed. Unsure of what fate had in store for her Eliza struggled just as much to stay awake as she did to remember the name of the man she had just seen.