The Incredible John

~ BLACK FLAGS OF THE ABECEAN ~

Eldayon Larethor

Head Justiciar of Cyrodiil and Veteran of the Great War

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Eldayon felt like he had died but was he truly? Was this what Aetherius felt like? But how did he die? A better question would be when. His mind was still hazy but he forced himself to remember. It had to be at Ska’vyn. That battle was bloody. He remembered how he was at the left wing of Lady Arannelya’s army. How the legionaries battered their flank at a desperate attempt to break them. They held but only just barely. He couldn't have died there though. He remembered the retreat that followed. The endless lines of carriages and soldiers walking back south towards Taneth. Didn't he become a Justiciar after that war? Yes he did. He became a damn good one too. He was sent to Cyrodiil too, wasn't he? Yes, he even rose through the ranks and became the head Justiciar. He remembered how that miffed his seniors. That a relatively young mer received the position before they did. So it had to be at Cyrodiil. He tried his best to remember. To peer back to the padt. There was that scuffle at Anvil. That little fight he had with the drunken Nord sellsword. The man nearly cut his neck if he hadn't dodged fast enough. But he had survived that encounter. He made it back to the Imperial city to write a report on the whole ordeal.

It must have been… Wait. His thoughts became fixated with the city of Anvil. He was missing a clue and the city seemed to be important. Something happened there. What could it be? Was it the fish? The Fighter’s Guild? The Argonians? Those damnable lizards always did hang about at the docks, making such a scenic place so repulsive. Wait. The docks. Ships. Yes he boarded a ship there. Arslan's Fortune, wasn't it? He was having a sip of wine when they hit a spot of bad weather. Then there were pirates. Pirates below deck. Pirates above. He was fighting them. Then there was an explosion.

Suddenly the events just before he was knocked out came rushing into his head. He wasn't dead but he was still in danger. He quickly opened his eyes, gasped deeply for air and clenched his hand. By some miracle his sword was next to him and he quickly grabbed it. He pointed the thing straight in front of himself and prepared to parry a blow. Only there was nothing to parry. Eldayon took a minute or so to calm down once he realized he was alone. There was nothing here but sand and a thick jungle in front of him. He stood up, which was quite the struggle seeing as every article of clothing he had was soaked. Finally he looked down at his feet and realized he had arrived at the beach by riding on a sizable wreckage of the ship. The gods had heard his prayers. He was delivered from his perils and found himself on this desolate shore. There was nothing there but the rolling waves on the sands and a few seemingly tattered tents further east up along the coast. Eldayon decided to walk up towards the structures as he saw nothing in either direction.

Eldayon’s body was sore. He felt like he was punched all over. He knew he had a bruise somewhere on his abdomen. Every step he took made his midriff hurt. His thoughts once again lingered on that damnable captain of the ship. Eldayon swore that if he ever found the scoundrel again, he would make him pay for all the troubles he’s been put through so far. Not to mention all the valuables he lost. He had a chest with at least 4,000 septims and a beautiful painting of a Breton woman he was going to display in his summer home outside of Firsthold. Such an elegant piece of art would have made Vorandilin choke with envy. Vorandilin Elsinfaere is a rival of his father. He was completely smitten by his mother and resented the fact that she was married to his father, the son of a Mythic Dawn cultist. Since Vorandilin couldn’t touch his father, he did his damn best to make Eldayon’s life in the Thalmor as difficult as possible. However Eldayon always did prove more crafty than his wits could manage. Eldayon made it a personal mission to miff Vorandilin, his superior in the Thalmor, every chance he could take.

However Eldayon’s train of thoughts about his missing possessions and petty revenge was abruptly ended when he finally came up the tents. It was as he feared. They seemed abandoned and for some time now too. They were all tattered and beyond repair. He saw a small fishing boat at the edge of the camp. It was half buried and had a hole the size of his fist on its side. Just a little bit beyond the tents was a barely standing rack where freshly caught fish would be salted and dried. Of course there weren't any fish here nor people. At least it was a shelter from the overbearing sun. His hood and robes could only do so much to protect his golden skin.

Eldayon sat on a stool inside of the tents. There were multiple holes in this tent but it did enough to keep up the sun. Once seated, he tried to contemplate where he was. This place looked like Elswyr but that didn’t make any sense. They should have passed it by now. In fact they should be past Valenwood. Did they get turned around? Did that foolheaded captain sail around the storm? Did he sail around to try and lose the pirates? If he was in Elswyr though, then he should hunker though here in this tent until a Dominion patrol or ship found him. That was when he noticed a chest next to his stool. It was probably full of moon sugar. If there were khajeet around, then their vices followed. His abdomen did still ache and a shard of moon sugar would greatly help with that.

Eldayon opened the chest only to be confused. There wasn’t any moon sugar or skooma in it. However he did find clothing. He took it out and laid them down on the sand. First there was a simple linen tunic. Then there were linen trousers. The next thing he pulled from the chest seemed very familiar. A linen hood that had a long scarf that one could throw over their shoulders to cover up their neck and face. That was curious. The last time he had seen that fashion was when he was serving Lady Arannelya in Hammerfell. Were the Khajiit copying Redguard customs now?

That was when the realization finally dawned on Eldayon. His eyes stared at the scarf like it was some grotesque icon to the Daedric lords. His heart sank. He started to take in short and shallow breaths. He wasn’t shored on Elswyr, not on Valenwood and not in Cyrodiil. It was far, far worse. The gods hadn’t delivered him to safety, they landed him in a fate far worse than death. He was stranded in a place where he would be flayed alive and drowned if he was caught and that was at their most merciful. He panicked even more at the thought of him being recognized. They would already hate him for being an altmer, they would despise him for being a thalmor but if they found out his name, they would surely send him Hegalthe on a pike.

‘Think of a plan. Think of a plan.’ Eldayon repeated over and over in his head.

He forced himself to calm down. He took in deep, slow breaths and he was able to recover somewhat. He wasn’t caught yet. In fact he had the fortune of finding some shelter and he still had his weapon with him. He should get rid of his clothes though. His black cloak was an open invitation to anyone he came across to stab him. He grabbed the tunic and measured it over himself. Eldayon cursed himself silently. It would only barely fit him. However it was better than nothing. The mer took off his waterlogged robes begrudgingly. If any other Thalmor official found out about this, he wouldn’t hear the end of it. However it was better to be mocked than beheaded.

~ BLACK FLAGS OF THE ABECEAN ~

The corsairs had begun to encircle Eldayon and the rest of the remaining crew and passengers on the top deck. Forcing them into a small area. This was fine with the elf. He didn't have to constantly watch his back as there was somebody there already fighting a pirate. Of course he didn't trust the competency of the others there. If they were other Thalmor agents or Dominion soldiers, he could rest assured in their skills. These gaggle of survivors hardly seemed combat capable. Though they were holding their own. The altmer would deflect a blow from a pirate who swung his sword too wide. Eldayon was able to dispatch of his foe with a more conservative strike with his sword. Out here, out in the open space of the deck, Eldayon's skills as a veteran soldier would shine. He would parry and evade strikes made at him and counter them masterfully. Once he was able to throw off another pirate foolish enough to get in his way, he took stock of the situation.

To the best of his abilities, he tried to figure out who were pirates and who, like him, were the crew and passengers of the Arslan's Fortune. The scene was chaotic. It was hard to make friend, or at the very least temporary allies, from foes. However the first figure he spotted in the fray was an elderly Dunmer fighting the pirates not too far from him.

'A fellow mer. By the eight.' He thought silently.

He maybe of Velothi stock but he would take him over the Redguard and Imperial pirates any day of the week. Speaking of Redguards, here was one nearby the Dunmer. He didn't seem like a pirate. He was actively fighting them too. A sellsword perhaps. Still any arms that fought with him was welcomed.

Eldayon's anger would truly flare when he spotted a special someone on the deck. The captain himself. The altmer felt a swell of rage when he found the man. He quickly broke off his stance and ran towards him.

"You there!" Eldayon yelled through the noise around him. Though the man didn't seem to acknowledge the Justiciar. That might because he was too busy stabbing a pirate. Then in a supreme show of arrogance that only a high elf could muster, he began complaining to the man fighting for his own life.

"I paid you extra in the promise that you would keep me safe! That was 300 Septims! I could have bought my own ship with that money! But you sailed us through a storm and now we're dealing with buccaneers! As soon as we reach land I will demand compensation!" Eldayon yelled out defiantly. Amidst the raging battle, this lone Thalmor agent had turned his back on the fighting to air out his frustrations.

It would have been the end of him too. A pirate slipped past a sailor and ran towards the black-robed Eldayon. Being a bit taller than most folks on the deck and wearing his distinct black and gold robes, he stood out like a sore thumb. A sword almost went through his gut if fate had not intervened. The ship exploded and it threw both Eldayon and would-be killer a foot or so into the air. They both landed against a mast. Eldayon's landing was greatly cushioned by the pirate now behind him. He groaned as his vision became blurry. He tried to move his hands. He quickly gripped his sword and clutched onto it tightly. He tried to stand up, but even with his padded fall, he found his legs too sore to brunt his own weight at the moment.

"Auriel, Trinimac, Mara... God's blood whoever is out there. Save me." He raggedly whispered a prayer. Everything after seemed hazy to him. His fate was in the hands of the gods now. He wished them to be merciful to him in his time of need.

~ BLACK FLAGS OF THE ABECEAN ~

It was supposed to be a pleasant trip to High Rock. It was supposed to be a day or so of bliss before he returned back to Alinor. Eldayon had missed the Black Eagle by a day or so. It was an official Thalmor ship that ferried only Thalmor officials to and from Alinor. The Thalmor had many such ships but not enough to stay in one port for an extended length of time. Because of the previous war with the Empire, Eldayon would rather not board an Imperial ship. Not that there were any ships charting any trips to Alinor. His plan was to set sail to Highrock instead. Though it was still part of the Empire, it was left out of the war. Its people also had Elven blood and though they were still men at heart, they weren't as hostile as the Imperials or gods forbid, the Redguards. There ships from Alinor came to and from reliably enough. Instead of waiting for a month or for another Thalmor ship, he could wait a week or so for another merchant ship to take him to the home isles. That was how Eldayon found himself on Arslan’s Fortune.

An hour or so ago there was rough weather but Eldayon didn't worry about it much. Now, half a wine bottle deep, he was tipsily trying to escape the vessel he was in. The ship moving roughly from side to side wasn’t helping.

“Mara’s blood.” He cursed softly as he tried to navigate the ship.

Random bits and bobbles rolled from one side to the other. Making the Justiciar’s path a little harder. He could hear screaming and yelling. That and the sound of battle. It must have been coming from the upper deck. Under any other circumstance, he would have been a fool to brazenly follow the noise of conflict. However smoke was quickly filling the hallway he was in. His choices were either to join the fray or burn to death.

“Of all the days, of all the days.” He kept repeating. His run of luck kept getting worse by the minute. Finally he saw the way back up to the main deck. His luck seemed to be changing. He swiftly made his way towards it. On his way there though, he felt something tugged at his robe. He looked down to see a sailor. He was clearly injured from what little he could see.

“Help.” The poor Breton muttered out. The last of his strength being quickly sapped out of his body.

Eldayon gave him a boot to the face. A swift kick to free himself from the sailor’s grasp. Then he sprinted for the ladder leading him up to the main deck. Only before he could do so, he would crash onto some miscreant looting the lower deck for valuables. The two paused for a minute. Studying each other in the dim lights of the lower deck. Eldayon studied the man. He seemed to be an Imperial. A pirate? Just his luck, pirates were boarding his ship. Then he noticed something else about the man. There was something on his neck. Something that quickly caught his eye. An amulet with an axe shaped charm. Oh the irony of a Justiciar running into a Talos worshipper. He two exchanged what could have been the longest glance at each other. One that of confusion that turned into bitter resentment.

Before Eldayon could utter a single word, he felt the man’s fist connect with his jaw. For a few seconds he was left stunned. He almost fell to fist feet if he hadn't caught a hold of the wall first. The pirate tried for another jab but this time, by some miracle, Eldayon evaded him. The Justiciar was still shaken by the sudden punch to his jaw. It took him a second to recover. Only to be followed up by a blow to his stomach. This left Eldayon winded. However it also sobered him up. Eldayon couldn't use his sword. Not in such tight quarters. Instead he had to fight with his fist. Eldayon tried to hit the man with his own blows but the pirate was much more adept at this style of fighting. The pirate grinned at him mockingly. This ticked off the Justiciar to no end. This lowlife scum was getting the better of him, a Thalmor official. The best of the Aldmeri Dominion. Eldayon pushed him back and in doing so the pirate crashed into a lamp. Spilling oil on himself. Eldayon would now grin at the pirate. Then he stretched out his arm, opened his palm and let out a short and small burst of flames.

The commotion on the main deck was joined by a man screaming in agony as he ran up the stairs from the lower deck. Then he was followed by a hooded figure in black. Finally Eldayon had reached the relative safety of the upper deck. Of course it wasn't much better up here. There was chaos all around. Here though he could finally draw his sword. The ceremonial blade of his family now put to the test.

“Mara preserve me.” He silently prayed as he drew Larethor’s Wrath.

~ BLACK FLAGS OF THE ABECEAN ~

Eldayon Larethor

Eldayon Larethor

"In our duties we must be ever vigilant and meticulous. To the races of men, we might come off as cruel and heartless. However it is our duty, as the higher beings, to stir them away from their animalistic urges."
-Our Duties and Responsibilities, Eldayon Larethor

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___________________________________ P R O F I L E Height Six feet and five inches (195.58 cm) Weight 165 Pounds (75 Kilograms) Sex/Gender Male (He/Him) Race Altmer (High Elf) Age 63 Birthsign Steed Class Custom: Justiciar ___________________________________ C A P A B I L I T I E S Attributes Strength - 30 (Race -10) Intelligence - 50 Willpower - 40 Agility - 40 Speed - 50 (Race -10, Birthsign +20) Endurance - 40 Personality - 40 Luck - 50 Skills Major: Blade - 25 Block - 25 Light Armor - 25 Conjuration - 30 (Race +5) Destruction - 35 (Race +10) Alchemy - 25 Speechcraft - 25 Minor: Armorer - 5 Blunt - 5 Heavy Armor - 5 Athletics - 5 Acrobatics - 5 Alteration - 15 (Race +10) Restoration - 5 Hand-to-Hand - 5 Mysticism - 15 (Race +10) Illusion - 10 (Race +5) Security - 5 Sneak - 5 Marksman - 5 Mercantile - 5 Spells Bound Sword, Flames ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y Weapons & Tools Larethor’s Wrath - Eldayon carries with him a glass sword he’s named the “Larethor’s Wrath”. It is a sword gifted to his father which now has been passed on to him. It's finely crafted but aside from that, the only difference it carries from other swords of its type is that it's richly engraved with fiery patterns. Outfit/Armor Complete Thalmor Justiciar Set - Eldayon is wearing his complete set of Thalmor Justiciar uniform. It is more a symbol of office than it is a competent piece of armor. Consumables One bottle of Skingrad wine (half empty). Valuables Pouch - Carrying 200 Septims and 37 Aldmeri Dominion coin. Misc A letter from Ondolemar - An opened letter coming from another Justiciar stationed in Skyrim. Badge of the Thalmor - Eldayon wears a Silver pendant that’s only worn by notable individuals in the Thalmor organization. ___________________________________

____________________________________________________________________________ APPEARANCE To a non-mer and/or the untrained eye, Eldayon looks like any other Altmer. He has the typical golden hued skin and light blonde hair typical of his kind. He also has an oblong head with strong facial features and golden irises. However other Elves may pick up on his thicker brows and thick nose ridge. Another defining feature of his that is rarely seen because of his hood is his scar that runs from the lower left side of his neck down to his collar. A souvenir given to him by a Redguard warrior during his time in the Great War. ____________________________________________________________________________ MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK Eldayon has never been a true believer in the Thalmor cause. In fact he secretly disagrees with some of their tenants. However he still commits himself to their cause with dutiful pride. Eldayon has never truly felt that he belonged with any group. Not to his family certainly and he knows he’s only tolerated in the Justiciars because he is efficient in his job. However the Thalmor has been the only group that has given him a sense of belonging, even if it is a strained relationship. From his days as an officer in the First War of the Empire to his current office as a Justiciar in Cyrodiil, the Thalmor have always shown him respect and admiration. Eldayon tells himself that this is the best that he can do. However some part of him longs for something more. A place where he could truly be accepted for who he is. A place that won't look into his family’s past. Perhaps a family of his own would prove to be that place. That is if he could find the perfect person to settle down with. Perhaps his calling is elsewhere in the Dominion. In the meantime however, the proud son of Alinor will continue to uphold his duties to the letter. ____________________________________________________________________________ BACKGROUND Eldayon Larethor is a mer haunted by a turbulent past. A past that started long before he was born. During the time of the Oblivion Crisis, Eldayon’s grandfather, Arnyon Larethor, was a known agent of the Mythic Dawn. The elder Larethor supported the cult financially and when Mehrunes Dagon’s invasion arrived fully to Tamriel, he was seen committing himself to the fighting. His body was never recovered or identified in the aftermath of the battle. Arnyon tried to convince his son, Ceraril Larethor, to join him. Ceraril repeatedly refused his father’s invitations. That is according to him at least. Others claimed Ceraril consorted with the Daedra and openly joined the invading forces during the Oblivion Crisis. Ceraril was fighting in the streets of Alinor city that day but whether it was with or against the Daedra is still debated in hushed terms. His unclear loyalties and his grandfather’s ties to the cult caused many to mistrust Ceraril. There were those who called to have him arrested and even still some who wanted his blood spilled immediately. Ceraril kept voicing his loyalty to the empire and his disdain for the Mythic Dawn but his detractors were never convinced. He couldn't seek help from the empire as its authority in the province had waned following the Oblivion Crisis. The surviving Altmer authorities were too busy with rebuilding the rubble to look after a possibly guilty elf seeking aid. Barring self exile, Ceraril felt that there was only one course of action left for him to take. He would join a small group of extremists known as the Thalmor. The growing Elven supremacist movement had a big enough following that Ceraril would feel safe amongst their ranks. In return, like his father would with the Mythic Dawn, Ceraril would fund the Thalmor. Ceraril would give up almost everything he had to finance the Thalmor cause. His gambit would pay off tremendously though. When the Thalmor rose to power, he gained significant influence in the organization. He was swiftly carried up the ranks. Then he took vengeance on his most vocal detractors by stripping them of their wealth and land. Siphoning this ill-gotten fortune to himself. It only took a few decades for him to rebuild his exhausted estate. Then he would meet his wife, Aria Spelliane. The Spellaines were a minor noble family in the empire. After the Thalmor took over and the Aldmeri Dominion was established, the Spellaines grew in standing as well. To further cement their growing prestige, the patriarch of the Spellaine family married off his daughter to a rising Thalmor official. Thus Aria’s and Ceraril’s union came into being. 50 years later, in 137 of the 4th Era, their first and only child, Eldayon, would be born. Ceraril would raise his boy sternly and harshly. Eldayon was tutored personally by his father, who demanded complete obedience from his son. Ceraril claimed that this was because of the animosity towards their family name. There were still those that harbored grudges against the Larethor line. Any perceived weakness on Eldayon’s part could mean his and their family’s downfall. Any acts of defiance or failings were met with canings, sometimes several in a single day. Eldayon would learn the basics of fencing during the day and study the subtleties of aristocratic etiquettes at night. Aria on the other hand seemed disinterested completely with her own flesh and blood. She was instead busy attending social functions and mingling with other elites of the Dominion. The young Eldayon grew up disciplined but bitter because of his strict father and his indifferent mother. Further compounding this was the fact that not too many of his peers developed a positive relationship with him. His father’s paranoia kept him from mingling with many other Altmer youths. Those few that were able to socialize with him found him stuffy and reserved. Eldayon would also be inducted into the ranks of the Thalmor when he came of age. He would soon get the chance to prove himself as the Aldmeri Dominion and the Third Empire would come to blows. Because of his affiliation with the Thalmor, Eldayon became an officer in Lady Arannelya’s army. Those under Eldayon’s command would silently protest that this relatively young elf was leading their ranks. His actions in the war didn't gain Eldayon any praise either. He was too austere with his troops and punished them for the smallest infractions. He wasn't a leader but a tyrant. However Eldayon’s soldiers did distinguish themselves in Hammerfell. They were some of the most effective warriors in the battlefield if not a tad bit irritable. Eldayon continued to serve as an officer throughout the Redguard insurrection. This was where his talents would show themselves. Instead of leading a company of troops, he would personally lead five or so. Then they would travel from village to village looking for signs of aid towards the Redguard insurgents and Imperial remnants. Those found guilty were summarily hanged as a warning to the rest of the villagers. He would do this from villages to towns to cities. He became a hated and feared figure for the Redguards. A symbol of the Aldmeri tyranny that occupied their lands. Of course it was here that he learned cruelty could only carry him so far. He would soon learn how to cordial with his foes to disarm them. Eldayon used both treats and promises to achieve his goals. Eldayon’s keen eyes and knack for speechcraft could always come upon the tiniest clue that would lead him to food and weapon stashes. Eventually though the Dominion was driven entirely out of Hammerfell. When he returned home, Eldayon would find a new need for his freshly crafted skills. The Empire had been caught breaking its agreement to stop its worship of the hated Talos. A new force was being trained to oversee the enforcement of this rule. Eldayon soon found himself teaching a new generation of Justiciars his tactics and skills. The knowledge he honed in Hammerfell would be used in the rest of the lands of men. Of course Eldayon would prove true to his family tradition. He would quickly make enemies while training new recruits. He was every bit as harsh and demanding to his new apprentices as he was with his old warriors. He also wasn’t afraid to upstage and question his superiors. Eventually, if just to rid themselves of his presence, he was assigned to oversee the Thalmor operations in Cyrodiil itself. Here, in the heart of the empire, Eldayon would oversee dozens of Justiciars. He saw to it that every hidden sect that worshipped Talos was dismantled with ruthless efficiency. Men, women and children were abducted and personally questioned by the charming Altmer. He became infamous as the “Gentleman in Black” because of his disarming amiability and his black uniform. From time to time however, Eldayon would return back to Alinor. Whether to personally deliver critical intelligence back to his superiors or just to remind himself of the comforts of home. At least twice a year, he would make this voyage home. Which brings him to his current predicament. He found himself onboard Arslan's Fortune. The official Thalmor ship that he was supposed to leave on left early. Forcing Eldayon to ferry on a trade ship. A ship recommended to him by another Justiciar. Everything seemed well enough. That was until the ship encountered bad weather. Little did he know that was only the start of his misfortunes. ____________________________________________________________________________ RELATIONSHIPS AND OPINIONS ____________________________________________________________________________ MISC ...

Eldayon's Larethor's Log

• Eldayon's expected trip from Cyrodiil to Highrock on a detour home was interrupted by pirates. He was forced to fight them off only to lose consciousness when the ship exploded.

• Eldayon's wakes up on the shores of Stros M'Kai. He doesn't realize where he is at first until he finds an abandoned fishing encampment. From there he finds an old set of clothes and tries his best to disguise himself.

~ BLACK FLAGS OF THE ABECEAN ~ (A TES pirate and privateer RP…) (Interest Gathering/Potential)

I'm interested in giving this a spin.

Through the Gateways: Inhumanity

New Eden Emergency Authority

New Eden Emergency Authority

"If your nation has a flavor quote/motto, it goes here"

Government Form:
Authoritarian Military Dictatorship

Population:
Approximately 2.5 Billion

What is humanity?:
To the average Edenian, such philosophical pondering would be seen as useless at best and offensive at worst. The average Edenian would be far too busy worrying about environmental hazards and making ends meat rather than spending time on thought provoking questions. However if one was able to able to get an answer, most Edenians would agree that "Humanity" is the indomitable will to survive. Of course in the hellscape that is New Eden, this seemingly positive message is twisted into an extremely pessimistic ideology.

Living in the shadow of nuclear conflict and generations of war, the will to survive became an individualistic drive. One where any and all actions taken to survive is not only seen as necessary but wholly justified.

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Planet/System Name and Description: The New Eden Emergency Authority, as the name implies, resides in the planet of New Eden. Before the sudden lost of Earth, New Eden was extensively and meticulously terraform to resemble Earth. After its fiery nuclear war, the planet is but a shadow of its former self. Once lush and verdant biospheres are now reduced to barren, radioactive soil barely able to sustain any life. Only 30% or so of the planet's surface is fit for Human habitation.

Demographics: _{(For talking about how much of the population belongs to different groups/ethnicities/religions/whatever. This space can also be used for describing genetic/cybernetic modifications your people have done, subspecies that have been created, aliens that may have been integrated, and so on.)}

History:
The colonization of the planet that would be known as New Eden was Earth's most ambitious project at the time. A planet simply classified as #387224 was discovered by Earth's earliest exploration teams. Its importance wasn't discovered until another exploration, this time with more extensive and sensitive equipment, arrived a few years after. Planet #387224 was discovered to have properties shockingly similar to Earth. Its gravity, water levels, sea level pressure and other planetary features were similar to Earth. In fact the only thing keeping the exploration team from taking off their environmental suits was the lack of oxygen in planet #387224's atmosphere.

When news of planet #387224 reached Earth, it quickly entered the public consciousness when scientist, politicians and other interested parties argued over what to do with it. Soon enough there were two popular main camps of thought over the planet. One that argued that planet #387224 should be left untouched and turned into a nature reserve. The other argued that planet #387224 should be turned into Humanity's first attempt to settle a new world off in the stars. The debate over the planet became heated at times and the public's opinion shifted one way or the other. However the colonization of a new planet became more and more popular by the day.

A new name was chosen for Humanity's next mega project. Planet #387224 would be renamed as New Eden and so would the ambitious program to terraform it. Multinational conferences and treaties would be made. The brightest minds and the largest entities, both private and public, pitches their knowledge and resources into the massive endeavor. It would take decades of hard work and controversy but New Eden would be turned into a planet similar to Earth. In some aspects, like the duplication of several natural landmarks on Earth, almost a carbon copy.

The colonization of New Eden became a very publicized event. People were encouraged to move to the planet with seemingly endless ad campaigns. New Eden was touted as an untouched paradise just waiting for new people to experience all its wonders. Millions would apply to become New Eden's first residents. Entire cities grew seemingly overnight on the planet's surface. Five districts were made to administer the five continents on the planet's surface. On paper every nation that participated in the New Eden project had authority over every district. In practice however the five largest and most powerful nations on Earth governed each of the districts.

Jurisdiction over the districts were becoming an increasingly divisively issue on New Eden. There were calls for New Eden to become more autonomous from the oversight of Earth. Others outright demanded independence. However these requests were largely ignored on Earth, which itself was suffering from its own bouts of instability and chaos. The five districts, which were supposed to be temporary administrative bodies, became more and more restrictive. Hard borders were enforced and each district began implementing laws mirroring their mother nations on Earth. As on Earth, tensions grew between these districts.

These growing inter-district rivalries became worst when

Culture and Society: _{(How do they live? Anything from ritual cannibals, to a surveillance state dystopia, to an integrated hivemind.)}

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Governance and Politics: _{(Like the government form field, but more room for detail. If your Colony has changed in such a way that it doesn't even have a government or politics anymore, this is also a good place to talk about that.)}

Technology Overview: _{(What have your people invented? Or have they forgotten anything?)}

Military Overview:

Mercenaries

With Premier Chang yet to appoint an official successor in the time of his death, which many are noting could be coming soon because of his advanced age and declining health, his five district governors are gearing up for the eventuality of a civil war. They have the conventional armed forces of their districts to amass as well as special forces that they have kept exclusively to themselves. These warriors are veterans of the Unification war and are battle hardened and tested. They are usually on average older than the fresh faced recruits of the NEEA.

The district governors are ready to lend these soldiers to the galactic community for a price. Each of them are listed below.

Freelancer's Legion

Back before joining then General Chang's Unification war, then self proclaimed Colonel Jessica Adebisi was the head of the Freelancer Corps. The Freelancer Corps was a mix of seasoned soldiers and brigands all forced to exist with one another to survive. They were a notoriously violent group who raided settlements and surviving towns for anything of value. Those who resisted were brutalized and killed. Then general Chang would recruit the roving band under his command. Then he sent Colonel Adebisi and her Freelancers to the city of New Aleppo. According to some accounts, the general Chang sent the Freelancers to the battle as cannon fodder so that his more experienced soldiers can clean up what remained. Much to his surprise however, the Freelancers did incredibly well. Taking parts of the ruined city and setting up a staging area for the rest of Chang's forces.

In the current time, the Freelancers are the largest and most well equipped out of the five paramilitary forces. Indeed they are the size of an actual army, a million strong. The Freelancers make use of their numbers and equipment to its full potential. In combat they exercise combined arms tactics with each miniature branches of the Freelancer's Legion coordinating their actions with extreme precision. Premier Chang uses the Freelancer's Legion as an elite army he can field when his other forces have failed him. During the Fortitude City Uprising, when two army groups couldn't dislodge Fortitude City rebels from their positions, Premier Chang sent now District Governor Adebisi and her Freelancers to destroy them. After a month of fighting, the rebels were effectively crushed and dispersed.

Hyperion Group

The Hyperion Group was a small organization of former Haiyangian special forces that offered their services to then General Chang. The group was and still is led by some extent by the infamous Daichi Nakamura. Nakamura was a lieutenant colonel before retiring from Haiyagang Rangers. After he retired, he recruited individuals with similar military training and expertise has he did and offered their services to wealthy clientele. Often enough this involved fighting off brigands and raiders in the regions that the Haiyangan military couldn't effectively control. This would lead them to fighting skirmishes with the encroaching general Chang. After a few battles, Nakamura decided it would be more beneficial to join with the rising general rather than fighting him.

After joining in with general Chang, one of his most closest officers, one Andrej Petrovic, saw their potential. With his close personal friendship with one another, Peotrovic convinced Chang to give the mercenaries the best equipment he could procure.

Freedman's Daredevils

Screaming Griffins

Death Division

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Additional Info: _{(Anything else you want to include that there isn't a spot for up there.)}

Forgot to post my interest check since I entered the Discord server first. Anyways I'll be plopping my WIP sheet here.

City In Flames: A Night City Story

Requisition Strike Force Meeting Room
40th Floor, Militech Offices
Night City, North America

The week was painfully slow for the repo men. The last job they had was going after a bunch of Raffans who were running Militech knock-offs through the border. It wasn’t even their jurisdiction but Moore took up the job because the team had no assignments for a few days prior. Moore and her team got to their hideout, expecting a fire fight at least but it was as silent as a graveyard. The rundown shack in the middle of nowhere revealed five nomads. Four were dead from overdosing on glitter. The last was barely alive and choking. Moore knew she couldn’t even book the bastard so she finished up tagging the contraband, loading them into their truck and then she rang NCPD to tell them about this particular Raffan hideout. That was yesterday. A lot could change in a day.

Two hours after Moore got off from work, one of their transport convoys in Watson got hit. From what Moore initially heard, it was bad. Murmurs from different department heads about the “great fuck up”. Apparently somebody in Internal Transportation was getting axed. Four other people were under internal investigation. While eating her breakfast, Moore tried to make sense of the flood of chatter going through the corp’s net. Apparently one of their convoys was hit last night. Somewhere in Watson. That was everything she was able to confirm. She called her sergeants and her analyst to their meeting room that morning. She wanted to know more about the incident.

Moore found herself waiting for everyone else at their meeting room. It was three minutes after 10 in the morning. Moore herself was sipping on a fresh brew of coffee while looking out at corporate plaza. It seemed like another bright and sunny day for Night city. Her eyes were fixed on the building opposite theirs. Arasaka Tower, or at least what used to be Arasaka Tower. Gleaming in the sunlight as it usually did. A monolith of glass, steel and concrete. For a while Moore wondered what her life would be like if she or her parents had joined Arasaka rather than Militech. Would there truly be a difference? Moore knew of a couple of new recruits who used to be Saka’. Maybe that's where she’d be now. Down 30 flights of stairs at the corporate barracks, starting out fresh working for the competition.

Her train of thought was interrupted when she heard the door behind her open. “Morning chief.” A voice greeted her. Before she even turned around to see who it was, she already knew his identity. Oliver Price, one of their division’s analysts. “Price.” Moore greeted back in her usual stern and rigid tone. What her subordinates called her ‘officer voice’. Price was followed by three other people. They wore combat fatigues which contrasted with the long sleeve shirt and slack that Price was wearing and the sleek, black dress that Moore had on. The first of the three to enter was a huge figure. One would easily mistake her for a member of the Animals gang if it weren't for the Militech uniform she was wearing. She was sergeant Alex Winters. The 6’8 leader of Alpha squad. She used to be her squad’s heavy weapon’s operator until their previous sergeant got flatlined in a shootout with the Tyger Claws. Moore knew she could take the initiative if left without a proper chain of command so she immediately promoted her. Winters gave Moore a casual and informal salute. Moore returned it. Next to follow her was a woman similar to Moore’s height and build. She had a grin on her face when she saw Moore. She didn't even bother with a salute. ‘Tenant’. She greeted Moore. Moore would match her grin with a smug smirk of her own. This was Bailey Kabinsky, the leader of Charlie squad. She was actually one of the 6th Street recruits that came in after Arasaka left Night City. At first Moore did not take a liking to her and she didn't hide it. However as time went on, she grew to like the spunky and quick witted street kid. The last to enter stood in attention and gave Moore a proper salute. Crisp and formal, as if he was in the NUSA army. Moore had no choice but to return the salute in a similar manner. This was sergeant Richard Chase, the leader of Bravo squad. He was infamously known behind his back as ‘sergeant killjoy’. However there was no denying that he was an effective operative and officer, even if he was inflexible and always adamant to follow everything by the books.

They all made their way to a table at the center of the room. Moore’s eyes glowed bright blue for a split second. Then the blinds at the windows activated and dropped down. Leaving the room devoid of natural light. Price placed four shards on the table and each one of the sergeants and Moore took one. Then they all slotted the shards in their necks. It only took a split second before their optical implants displayed the information for them.

“So no use in wasting time. Let's get to it. Yesterday at 20:37, one of our convoys in Watson was ambushed.” Price explained while the shards displayed the information for them visually. “They were passing through the junction between 32nd Offshore and 12th Goldsmith street when a truck crashed into the lead element of the convoy.” Their visual displays would present a truck ramming to the lead armored car of the convoy and exploding.

“Kaukaz Bratsk U42020.” Chase noted. Moore looked up the truck on her agent and found that it was the exact same. “Never knew you were into heavy machinery Rich.” Kabinsky would go on to say but it didn't elicit any response for her fellow officer. Price would continue with the presentation. The shard would then display three behemoth transport trucks. Chase didn’t have to name this vehicle. All of them were well aware of the behemoth. The standard cargo transport of Militech that’s been in service since 2070. The first truck crashed into the burning wreck, the second one pumped their brakes hard and just about almost hit the first and the third swerved into the sidewalk. After which a huge figure with some sort of hydraulic ram walked up to the first truck. It ripped apart the armored side like it was made of paper. Several containers poured out.

Kabinsky whistled. “Now that’s a jackpot. We could only dream of a score like that back when I was still on the streets.”

“Who’d be stupid enough to klep from us of all people?” Winters asked.

It would be the streetwise Kabinsky who would answer her question. “There’s only one gang in Watson that’s crazy enough to steal from us. Those psycho Maelstromers.”

Price zoomed in on one of the ambushers. Classic maelstrom implants on his face. His red visors were more than enough to clear up who they were. Recently it’s been the Tyger Claws that were giving Militech trouble. Over the past few years, it seemed like they went to war with just about everyone. A good number of Moore’s assignments had been locating and repossessing former Arasaka gear from Tyger Claw hideouts. It seems like Maelstrom wanted in on the action too. The rest of the presentation showed several Militech soldiers trying to dodge for cover and assemble into formations. However they were surprised, dazed and scattered. The gangoons picked them off easily enough. “A response team came in 20 minutes after. Not many of our guys made it out alive.”

There was a bitter ambience that lingered in the air. This didn’t seem like just another assignment now, it seemed like this was personal. A direct challenge not just to the company but to each of them individually. For a few seconds there was some silence in the room as they all digested what they just saw. It was Chase that broke the silence.

“Do we have the manifest for the convoy?” He asked. ‘A good question.’ Moore thought to herself. They needed to know what exactly was stolen. It could make tracking the people who stole from them that much easier to find. However, Price had some bad news for them.

“That’s the thing. Either the manifest got lost or somebody upstairs doesn’t want them released. I’ve been asking for it, people from Securities have been asking for it and I just walked past Cassey from Insurance who asked for it. Either Internal Investigation is keeping it for themselves or there’s something in those crates that cost a lot of eddies.”

Moore took out the shard in her neck. Her direct eyesight came back and he immediately pointed her gaze at Price. Giving him a look of intrigue and curiosity. Moore was no stranger to corporate politics and she knew there was something here that wasn’t quite right. Secrets within the company always piqued her curiosity. An itch that she desperately needed to scratch. The sergeants started to remove their shards too. Moore was quick to give them orders.

“Drill your teams in urban warfare training. Heavy emphasis on room to room clearing. When we go after Maelstrom, it’s probably going to be in a Northside neighborhood. No different than our Little China assignments. Expect us to be deployed soon. Dismissed.” All three of her sergeants gave proper salutes, even the occasionally insubordinate Kabinsky. They then exited the room in an orderly fashion.

Price stayed in the room. He sensed that Moore had something on her mind. As an analyst, he had more leeway to speak his mind. “What now?” He asked Moore who was deep in thought, staring at the shard she just took out of her neck.

Moore took a few moments to give an answer. “You keep finding out more about this. I’ll do the same. I’ll visit Wu at 88 and try to squeeze more information out of this.” Moore informed him. Jacquelin “Jackie” Wu was the head of Militech’s private net maintenance. That meant she had access to copies of data that may have been deleted. If there’s a copy of the manifest out there, it would be at Wu’s office.

City In Flames: A Night City Story

Gillian Moore

Gillian Moore

Age: 46

Gender: Female

Faction: (Militech)

Appearance:
Gillian is 1.55 meters tall and weights 70 kilos. She has a pale complexion, dark brown hair, dark brown eyes with a red glow and dark brown hair. She has a slim toned body build. Most of her body is organic. She prefers to save up for high end cyberware rather than constantly upgrading. When in duty she often sports her Militech uniform.

Cyberware:

• Kiroshi Opticals - Thermograph Sensor (Allows Moore to see the heat signature of objects and people).
• Militech Audio Implant - Amplified Hearing (Gives Moore improved hearing and sound recognition ability).
• Raymond Industries Heavy Duty Joints - Bionic Joints (Gives Moore added mobility and slightly improved durability).

Equipment:

• Militech M251s Ajax
• Militech M-76e Omaha
• Militech Neotac Pants
• Militech Nanofiber Shirt
• Militech Thermoset Military Field Jacket
• Militech Combat Boots

Biography:
Gillian Moore comes from a long line of service men and women. Her great, great grandfather fought in the Second World War, her great grandfather in Vietnam, grandfather in Colombia and both her parents in the Fourth Corporate war. However at an early age, Gillian seemed determined to set a different path for herself. She was born in the city of Washington D.C. in 2034. She was the third child of Paul and Laura Moore. Both Paul and Laura held high ranking positions within Militech. This meant that Gillian would grow up comfortably under a corporate life. At this time her father Paul would try to persuade her to follow in his footsteps and have her join the Militech private contracting firm. However Gillian didn’t particularly like the idea. Instead she would have preferred a, according to her opinion at the time, less dangerous and more glamorous life working in Militch’s offices.

In school she would find herself struggling. She wasn’t failing her academic classes but she wasn’t excelling either. Instead she would find more success in athletics. She would repeatedly find herself as the star athlete of her academies. She also found herself the figurehead of her peers. Her natural born charisma made her fellows flock to her. As such, even though she may not have been the brightest in her batch, she still became the most popular.

After graduation, Gillian would finally try her hands at the corporate world. Both her parents used their connections to get her a comfortable position. Unfortunately for Gillian, the department head never took a liking to her. Just within a few months of getting the position, she would be replaced. Completely disheartened, Gillian would resign without telling her parents. For a time Gillian tried to find another way into Militech without the help of her parents. Exhausting every option, Gillian found her way to the Militech paramilitary wing. At first Gillian was completely disgusted by the actions she had to take to get back into Militech. However she slowly began to enjoy the soldier’s life.

Gillian came back to her parents a Militech private. Surprising them both by her seemingly sudden shift in attitude. Nonetheless her father was more than joyful at the change of developments and showed how proud he was of her daughter, motivating Gillian even more to stay with the course she was following. Which would see her fighting in the Unification war. Rosalind Myer’s war proved to be Gillian’s path to success. She would excel on the battlefield. She also used her charisma to effectively rally together her comrades in the heat of battle. She rose through the ranks during the war. She took to commanding troops with ease and proved effective in taking tactical decisions. Her shining moment was rescuing a down Basilisk transport crew while surrounded by enemy nomads. She managed to rescue the crew without sustaining any casualties to her squad. Because of this she was instituted as a lieutenant.

During the final days of the Unification war, Gillian was stationed in Night City under the command of Colonel Kurt Hansen. It was only by sheer luck that her platoon was cycled away from what would eventually become known as Dogtown. Instead she was stationed in Militech HQ, where she still currently reports to. Gillian would be put in charge of Militech’s Requisition Strike Force department following the war. Popularly known as “repo men” inside of Militech, the purpose of the department was to acquire objects and/or individuals from other parties. Either for paying clients or for Militech itself. Usually the other parties involved were armed and dangerous, like Night City gangoons or rival corporations. Again Gillian’s charisma, athletics and her developing tactical competence benefitted Militech greatly. She was known for her ruthless but clinical efficiency. Having her team swoop in and complete their mission with as little time and lives lost as possible. It’s heavily rumored that it was her team involved in stealing an Arasaka medical truck from their dock, though Militech officials have repeatedly denied this.

Following Arasaka’s exit from Night City, Gillian’s department has been busy acquiring the left behind assets of Arasaka. Often competing with gangs and mercs, the department often finds itself in increasingly heated gunfights over containers of valuable items. Gillian still leads from the field, now finding the office life much too mundane for liking. She and her team are getting more and more reputation and infamy for their actions. Only growing in recognition with each day that passes.

City In Flames: A Night City Story

(Snip)

Sorry my sheet is a bit late... and a little rushed. Was busy the past few days.

Fallout New Vegas: Hope and Conflict

Smiling Jack

Name: Jacob “Smiling Jack” Hughes

Age: 41

Looks:


Personality: As his nickname implies, Hughes is almost always seen with a smile on his face. He is known to have a cheerful and jolly personality. When not engaged in combat he is known for being laid back and cordial. Even those that only met him could expect a warm greeting from the man, even though opposed to his ideology.

However this genial attitude has been observed in situations where it would be considered bad taste. In fact Hughes has openly admitted to relishing combat. His joyful inclination is on full show when he is in a gunfight. Hughes cracks jokes and makes banters with his troops while exchanging gunfire. He is also known to savor inflicting acts of cruelty on his enemies, specially after combat. So much so that he had been accused several times of violating multiple laws in the NCR. It is only because of Greene’s financial and political capital that Hughes has not been convicted yet.

Faction: Black Falcon Group

S.P.E.C.I.A.L
Strength: 6
Perception: 7
Endurance: 5
Charisma: 5
Intelligence: 6
Agility: 8
Luck: 5

Backstory: Following the assassination of Kimball and the victory at the Hoover dam, a vocal minority began to grow in the NCR. A group of people who felt that the Legion threat needed to be destroyed at its core. That Legion should have been eradicated while they were weak and scattered. That anyone in the Mojave and elsewhere that didn’t support the New Californian state was an existential enemy. That anyone who was not with the NCR should be shot. This wave of ultranationalism only seemed to grow stronger when the Chosen One enacted several reforms that seemed to curtail the bloated NCR armed forces. Many saw this as a betrayal of those who died at the dam. Specially since the NCR never pursued the Legion beyond the dam itself.

Former Major Jacob Hughes was present during the second battle of the Hoover dam. Hughes and his company were tasked with holding the surface of the dam against waves against waves of legionaries. At the end of the day, the Republic held and won against the Legion. However the victory came at a very steep prize. Only Hughes and former Junior Lieutenant Kelly Winters were the only officers to survive. Only 14 troopers survived the battle all in all. Winters needed an amputation and Hughes was close to absolute exhaustion. Both were awarded for their bravery. Winters was discharged from the Army because of her injuries. Hughes officially retired following that. The pair did not stay idle though. Hughes managed to convince Winters to move to the Hub. There the two would form their own mercenary group. From that moment on, the Black Falcons group was formed. It was named after Hughes and Winters favorite bar in the Hub, the Maltese Falcon. Hughes was far from the first to offer such services. However many clients found themselves favoring him over other mercs because of Hughes’ disarming personality.

It was also during this time that Hughes first flirted with ultranationalist ideology. Hughes found himself intermingling with the Patriot’s Club, a veteran’s organization that called for more militarization and the complete military occupation of the Mojave. The organization was headed by Rick Sanchez, a ghoul gentleman who spoke effectively to the angst and disappointment felt by NCR vets. Sanchez and Hughes would work together afterwards. With Sanchez bringing Hughes new recruits for his growing outfit and the charismatic Hughes speaking for the Patriot’s Club. Eventually Sanchez would introduce Hughes to one Gerry Greene. Greene was a very influential water baron who was close friends with the late Andrew Kimball. In fact Greene had a catering service that Kimball often used for both public and private functions. This earned Greene the nickname “Kimball’s Chef”. Greene contracted Hughes to protect his caravans going through and from the Mojave. Greene would also use the Black Falcons for less savory operations. Such as putting down worker’s strikes and sabotaging his rivals.

The Black Falcons only continued to grow in size, bringing in more income for Hughes. However Hughes found himself more and more dissatisfied with his success. Hughes found himself having to deal with more and more paperwork. Often spending days inside his office. He enjoyed being outside and fighting. The bureaucratic workings of the mercenary company brought him no joy. That was when Greene offered him a proposal. Greene would become his business partner. Greene would handle the administrative operations of the company while Hughes would lead from the field. Hughes was only more than happy to accept. Following their partnership, Hughes now found himself more and more in the Mojave. At first he continued his job guarding caravans in the Mojave. Often against the Fiends. Sometimes they were Greene’s water caravans, other times they were Crimson Caravans. Then he found himself on security details again. Escorting prominent NCR politicians around the Mojave. However the job he favored the most was jobs that guaranteed combat.

One engagement in particular brought the Black Falcons into the NCR’s public consciousness. The Talons were contracted to support the NCR Army in a raid against the Fiends. After a particularly bloody battle, only a few Fiends were left alive. Most were in critical condition. Hughes took a picture with one of the Fiends who lost an arm. He held her by her hair and raised her head for the camera. Like a hunter showing off their trophy catch. The pictures somehow found their way into the NCR media. Almost overnight, Smiling Jack and the Black Falcons became infamous back home in California. Specially after several journalists began to discover the brutal and near sadistic methods the Falcons use during and after a battle. Hughes didn’t mind all the extra attention. In fact Hughes would be the person responsible for inviting these journalists with him out on Black Falcon operations. Often he would display the sheer brutality of his group with a smile on his face. Ever since Hughes has been a polarizing figure back in California. To some people, he is seen as a rabid extremist. No better than the Legion in practice and ideology. To others he is seen as a hero. Doing necessary evils to protect the Republic from the Legion and other powers that threaten it. As for Hughes, he couldn't be bothered less with his image. He continues to do what he believes is right in the Mojave and enjoys the fact that he's getting paid handsomely for it.

Black Falcons

Faction Name: Black Falcons Security Group


Black Falcons Officer Uniform


Black Falcons Private/Specialist Uniform
(Original source for the uniforms.)

Faction Leader: Functionally Jacob Hughes, though the company itself is a partnership between himself and Gerry Greene.

Are they Canon?: No

Numbers: 200, about 140 are field agents. The rest are bureaucratic staff. This is the maximum number allowed by the NCR government at the time.

Tech Level: The Black Falcons enjoy the same equipment and necessities as the NCR army. This equipment comes from those who sympathize with Hughes's ideology as well as Greene's political connections. However the Black Falcons also have the luxury of choosing from other suppliers, such as the Crimson Caravans and the Gun Runners. For example, a Black Falcons Squad employs a machine gunner who often uses a Saw Light Machine Gun. A weapon not openly available to the NCR military but is sold by the Gun Runners.

Location(s): The Black Falcon's Headquarter office and camp is in Freeside. In front of the King's School of Impersonation. Hughes had the building renovated in 2287, as the Black Falcons became more and more involved in the Mojave. Ever since the Falcons had become a common sight in Freeside, making the perilous situation between Freesiders and the NCR even more strained.

History: In 2283 at the Hub, former Major of the NCR Army Jacob Hughes and former Junior Lieutenant Kelly Winters founded a small mercenary group known as the Black Falcons. An organization named after Highes and Kelly’s favorite drinking spot, the Maltese Falcon. Hughes’ charming personality made his group stand out against their competition. Eventually through Hughes’ connections, The Black Falcons would come into contact with one Gerry Greene. Greene was an old guard oligarch who benefited greatly from his friendship with the late President Kimball. Greene began to rely more and more on the Black Falcons to protect his products because of the NCR’s increasing antagonism against his business interest. Greene would enter into a partnership with Hughes after many successful business dealings. This would then grow the mercenary group into the dominant security force in the Mojave.

Following 2286, the group began to concentrate in the Mojave. The Black Falcons also began receiving training from former NCR rangers. In 2287, the organization’s headquarters was moved to Freeside in the Mojave. It was only in the same year that the group began to gain notoriety in the NCR after several journalist discovered the brutal methods that Hughes and his operatives utilized. In 2288, the NCR government enacted several laws that limited the operational capacity of the Black Falcons group. Including putting a hard limit on the number of field operatives that the group can employ and officially banning the group from purchasing equipment from the military. However, thanks to Greene’s political savvy and numerous connections, the Black Falcons haven’t been affected in any major capacity. Like its founder, the Black Falcons as an organization are often seen as a dividing figure within the NCR core territories. Specially as they continue to enact often inhumane tactics in their effort to fully secure the Mojave for the NCR.