I like the part about Skooma. Hmmm….A Fallout Elder scrolls crossover would be insane… irradiated Nirn… giant evil Deathcrabs…. Ghoulified Argonian armies marching across the land… most interesting.
Tsar Gatto Member
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Okay! We can get going properly now :)
Sorry, I prefer this to PMing if that's still alright? Better layout to see everything.
Sorry, I prefer this to PMing if that's still alright? Better layout to see everything.
Name:
Antonio de FabbriI
Nickname(s):
Antonio has gone by many names over the countless years, his real name known to very few.
Gender:
Male
Age:
Born 1072, this makes Antonio a little over 944. Physically he remains 24, his age when he contracted his ‘affliction’.
Sexuality:
Heterosexual (straight)
Physical description:
Antonio’s physical appearance has changed little over the centuries, he still remains a physically fit and strong 24 year old soldier despite the long years he has walked the earth. His hair is short, an ashen blonde shade kept somewhat styled and maintained. He is tall and his shoulders are broad, he could easily be considered muscular but lithe. His face is chiselled and handsome, the light stubble that permanently covers his jaw aiding in his somewhat rugged appearance.
Beyond his condition Antonio would look little more than a young attractive man, however he is so much more. His eyes, his smile, the way he holds himself, everything hints that there is more to him than meets the eye. If you were to observe him you’d soon pick up on something not quite ‘normal’, his physique relaxed but somehow tense, his gaze casual but somehow predatory.
Antonio has lived through enough era’s to have picked up on his own distinct style, dressing sharply and smart for almost all occasions.
Of course with enough examination there are other signs of his ‘condition’ that are visible. His skin is pale, but of course that tends to happen when it hasn’t been touched by sunlight in over nine centuries. His eyes whilst still a deep shade of emerald green seem to have the slightest deep unending blackness to them.
Of course all of that is true normally, however on occasion he appears extremely different. Antonio of course desires blood, and when deprived of blood he becomes weak and withdrawn. Within several days his skin would become gaunt and drawn, his features sunken and more pronounced. The whites of his eyes would become more and more bloodshot until they are practically entirely a bloody crimson and his teeth become permanent savage fangs. It has been a long time since he has been deprived enough of blood to deteriorate into this state and does anything to avoid it at all costs.
Personality:
Antonio is generally reserved and stoic, his disposition being affected by the long centuries he has endured. He has lived so long and through so many lifetimes that occasionally it can be difficult for him to motivate himself into action. He has in the past spent years in a melancholy state, battling with the point of his own existence and that of those of his own kind.
Generally he has reached a point where he is quite conflicted, a part of him knowing that he is cursed and in all likelihood deserves nothing more than death for all the pain and misery he has caused. On the other hand he often feels like his condition is a gift, an opportunity to live through and participate in much of history.
His mood and disposition seems to depend mostly on what he is doing, if he has a reason to be or to live or not. It seems that the last few decades he has been searching for a reason to live, a reason to be more than just another cursed creature of the night. Fortunately for him he has found a reason to live and this drives him with a fearsome passion.
History:
Antonio was born in Italy in the year 1072, the son of a wealthy noble amongst the barons and counts of Sicily. He lived what could have been considered a normal life, becoming a knight in service to his lord and participating in the first crusade and making his way to Constantinople and then on to Jerusalem. It was there that he was taken, that he was made into one of the immortal undead suddenly and without consent. His prowess was his downfall, the young crusader being noticed by one of the many lords that had too travelled to the ‘holy land’. This lord however was as far from a man of god as could be, a cruel and savage creature he and his cohorts were using the crusade as an opportunity to wreak havoc amongst the chaos and confusion that enveloped the land. The young Antonio was taken and corrupted easily enough, the many boons that he found himself enjoying were enough to see to that, the thrill of the hunt and especially the taste of his prey. These things combined with the wealth and prestige of his new cohorts were enough for him to join with them and to embrace the new darkness that had found him. He became good friends with another noble who had been turned, the man having become a vampire only months before Antonio had, this man was named Hunter Redfern. Together their reign was absolute and terrible.
It was many many years before he grew tired of what he had become, much longer than he is proud of before he wearied of the cruelty he embodied. He left the coven he had been a part of for hundreds of years, abandoning them one night before he began to travel the world with only a letter left to explain his disgust at what they had become and their reluctance to change. It was countless years before they finally caught up to him, angry for his desertion – more-so once they discovered that he was living peacefully within a village in Portugal with a family of humans who were aware of his true nature. They struck in the night killing every man woman and child before driving him from the village, though not before he was able to kill some of their numbers in retaliation, finally being confronted by Hunter Redfern who felt most betrayed by Antonio. After a bloody and painful confrontation he managed to escape narrowly with his life. He then fled Europe and travelled to the ‘new world’, spending the next several hundred years never staying in one place for long, never allowing anyone to get close to him – for both their protection and his own as he satisfied his curiosity of the world.
Eventually he stopped running, but not before he had visited practically every corner of the globe. This time he made a life for himself in England, but again it wasn’t to last as he was once more ferreted out by the others. It seemed that Redfern had become extremely influential even amongst their own kind and had not forgotten Antonio over the many long years. He once more sent his agents to destroy everything that Antonio held dear, everything he had worked towards and everyone he cared about in the slightest or had come into contact with him. This time however he didn’t flee, he fought back and actively tried to find and strike against the agents of Hunter Redfern, thus beginning a game of cat and mouse that seems to have no end as each of them now hates the other with a passion they feel is more than justified.
Over the countless years he has seen much, the rise and fall of empires, the depths of human compassion and cruelty both. He has come to a point in his life where he is done with running, done with the others destroying anything he comes to care about and even tired of how they are able to take advantage of any they wish. He is done with wondering about his existence, finished with his doubts and his feelings of pointlessness and self-hatred. At least for the time being he has one reason to continue to live. He has vowed to see Redfern dead and the lives of those the foul creature has extinguished over the generations avenged.
Appearance:
Antonio de FabbriI
Nickname(s):
Antonio has gone by many names over the countless years, his real name known to very few.
Gender:
Male
Age:
Born 1072, this makes Antonio a little over 944. Physically he remains 24, his age when he contracted his ‘affliction’.
Sexuality:
Heterosexual (straight)
Physical description:
Antonio’s physical appearance has changed little over the centuries, he still remains a physically fit and strong 24 year old soldier despite the long years he has walked the earth. His hair is short, an ashen blonde shade kept somewhat styled and maintained. He is tall and his shoulders are broad, he could easily be considered muscular but lithe. His face is chiselled and handsome, the light stubble that permanently covers his jaw aiding in his somewhat rugged appearance.
Beyond his condition Antonio would look little more than a young attractive man, however he is so much more. His eyes, his smile, the way he holds himself, everything hints that there is more to him than meets the eye. If you were to observe him you’d soon pick up on something not quite ‘normal’, his physique relaxed but somehow tense, his gaze casual but somehow predatory.
Antonio has lived through enough era’s to have picked up on his own distinct style, dressing sharply and smart for almost all occasions.
Of course with enough examination there are other signs of his ‘condition’ that are visible. His skin is pale, but of course that tends to happen when it hasn’t been touched by sunlight in over nine centuries. His eyes whilst still a deep shade of emerald green seem to have the slightest deep unending blackness to them.
Of course all of that is true normally, however on occasion he appears extremely different. Antonio of course desires blood, and when deprived of blood he becomes weak and withdrawn. Within several days his skin would become gaunt and drawn, his features sunken and more pronounced. The whites of his eyes would become more and more bloodshot until they are practically entirely a bloody crimson and his teeth become permanent savage fangs. It has been a long time since he has been deprived enough of blood to deteriorate into this state and does anything to avoid it at all costs.
Personality:
Antonio is generally reserved and stoic, his disposition being affected by the long centuries he has endured. He has lived so long and through so many lifetimes that occasionally it can be difficult for him to motivate himself into action. He has in the past spent years in a melancholy state, battling with the point of his own existence and that of those of his own kind.
Generally he has reached a point where he is quite conflicted, a part of him knowing that he is cursed and in all likelihood deserves nothing more than death for all the pain and misery he has caused. On the other hand he often feels like his condition is a gift, an opportunity to live through and participate in much of history.
His mood and disposition seems to depend mostly on what he is doing, if he has a reason to be or to live or not. It seems that the last few decades he has been searching for a reason to live, a reason to be more than just another cursed creature of the night. Fortunately for him he has found a reason to live and this drives him with a fearsome passion.
History:
Antonio was born in Italy in the year 1072, the son of a wealthy noble amongst the barons and counts of Sicily. He lived what could have been considered a normal life, becoming a knight in service to his lord and participating in the first crusade and making his way to Constantinople and then on to Jerusalem. It was there that he was taken, that he was made into one of the immortal undead suddenly and without consent. His prowess was his downfall, the young crusader being noticed by one of the many lords that had too travelled to the ‘holy land’. This lord however was as far from a man of god as could be, a cruel and savage creature he and his cohorts were using the crusade as an opportunity to wreak havoc amongst the chaos and confusion that enveloped the land. The young Antonio was taken and corrupted easily enough, the many boons that he found himself enjoying were enough to see to that, the thrill of the hunt and especially the taste of his prey. These things combined with the wealth and prestige of his new cohorts were enough for him to join with them and to embrace the new darkness that had found him. He became good friends with another noble who had been turned, the man having become a vampire only months before Antonio had, this man was named Hunter Redfern. Together their reign was absolute and terrible.
It was many many years before he grew tired of what he had become, much longer than he is proud of before he wearied of the cruelty he embodied. He left the coven he had been a part of for hundreds of years, abandoning them one night before he began to travel the world with only a letter left to explain his disgust at what they had become and their reluctance to change. It was countless years before they finally caught up to him, angry for his desertion – more-so once they discovered that he was living peacefully within a village in Portugal with a family of humans who were aware of his true nature. They struck in the night killing every man woman and child before driving him from the village, though not before he was able to kill some of their numbers in retaliation, finally being confronted by Hunter Redfern who felt most betrayed by Antonio. After a bloody and painful confrontation he managed to escape narrowly with his life. He then fled Europe and travelled to the ‘new world’, spending the next several hundred years never staying in one place for long, never allowing anyone to get close to him – for both their protection and his own as he satisfied his curiosity of the world.
Eventually he stopped running, but not before he had visited practically every corner of the globe. This time he made a life for himself in England, but again it wasn’t to last as he was once more ferreted out by the others. It seemed that Redfern had become extremely influential even amongst their own kind and had not forgotten Antonio over the many long years. He once more sent his agents to destroy everything that Antonio held dear, everything he had worked towards and everyone he cared about in the slightest or had come into contact with him. This time however he didn’t flee, he fought back and actively tried to find and strike against the agents of Hunter Redfern, thus beginning a game of cat and mouse that seems to have no end as each of them now hates the other with a passion they feel is more than justified.
Over the countless years he has seen much, the rise and fall of empires, the depths of human compassion and cruelty both. He has come to a point in his life where he is done with running, done with the others destroying anything he comes to care about and even tired of how they are able to take advantage of any they wish. He is done with wondering about his existence, finished with his doubts and his feelings of pointlessness and self-hatred. At least for the time being he has one reason to continue to live. He has vowed to see Redfern dead and the lives of those the foul creature has extinguished over the generations avenged.
Appearance:
The night air was cold, colder than usual as a thin sheet of rain fell and soaked those who hurried back and forth. The moon was high in the sky though mostly it was concealed by the dark clouds that drifted across the blackness on invisible currents as the city went about its business as usual. Bleary eyed workers made their way home, others emerging for their night shifts. Criminals and police officers did battle as they always had and always seemed to. The youth of the city was of course at its bars and clubs, drinking and partying unaware of the other world that existed, the other world that came alive as the sun set to prey on the unsuspecting and the helpless.
Down an alleyway, away from the eyes of the city a young clubber struggled as the beautiful woman he had met just a few minutes ago buried her fangs deep into his neck, her strength far exceeding his own despite her petite size. A few moments later a pair of his friends shouted his name and followed down into the alley, only to discover his already cold body, his eyes staring at the sky with a look of terror splayed across his features and blood dribbling down his neck.
Miles away in a dark park a woman walked alone under the few streetlights that lit the path. An odd tingling sensation griped her as she looked around, doubling her pace as she pulled her hood tighter to keep the rain out. Suddenly stood before her a man, or what she assumed was a man, his appearance instant and sudden to her eyes. Startled she made to scream, but the man simply gazed at her, his eyes piercing into her as he spoke softly
“Silence. You are mine now. Follow.”
The words were spoken softly and relaxed, however they were all she could focus on as she found herself following his instructions to the letter, helpless to resist as she did as the stranger bid – she followed him to her doom.
In the top floor of a penthouse apartment the wealthy undead mingled with each other, talking, laughing, sharing in stories as they drank from the many young girls and boys that stood around as if in a trance, seemingly happy to be used as little more than walking blood dispensaries.
This and more happens practically every night, the humans of this world powerless to resist the fates chosen by those with power over them. Only those who were aware, those who through one means or another have awakened to the nightmare that is reality have even a slim chance of survival. There exists a few amongst the number of humans who have made it their profession to fight against these foul creatures of the night, to remove their unholy stain from this world.
But what happens when the line between prey and predator mix? What happens two very unlikely individuals meet, their goal oddly aligned? One fighting the nature of his existence, the other embracing her own. Will they be able to stand against the tide together? Or both be washed under the sanguine waves never to emerge again.
Down an alleyway, away from the eyes of the city a young clubber struggled as the beautiful woman he had met just a few minutes ago buried her fangs deep into his neck, her strength far exceeding his own despite her petite size. A few moments later a pair of his friends shouted his name and followed down into the alley, only to discover his already cold body, his eyes staring at the sky with a look of terror splayed across his features and blood dribbling down his neck.
Miles away in a dark park a woman walked alone under the few streetlights that lit the path. An odd tingling sensation griped her as she looked around, doubling her pace as she pulled her hood tighter to keep the rain out. Suddenly stood before her a man, or what she assumed was a man, his appearance instant and sudden to her eyes. Startled she made to scream, but the man simply gazed at her, his eyes piercing into her as he spoke softly
“Silence. You are mine now. Follow.”
The words were spoken softly and relaxed, however they were all she could focus on as she found herself following his instructions to the letter, helpless to resist as she did as the stranger bid – she followed him to her doom.
In the top floor of a penthouse apartment the wealthy undead mingled with each other, talking, laughing, sharing in stories as they drank from the many young girls and boys that stood around as if in a trance, seemingly happy to be used as little more than walking blood dispensaries.
This and more happens practically every night, the humans of this world powerless to resist the fates chosen by those with power over them. Only those who were aware, those who through one means or another have awakened to the nightmare that is reality have even a slim chance of survival. There exists a few amongst the number of humans who have made it their profession to fight against these foul creatures of the night, to remove their unholy stain from this world.
But what happens when the line between prey and predator mix? What happens two very unlikely individuals meet, their goal oddly aligned? One fighting the nature of his existence, the other embracing her own. Will they be able to stand against the tide together? Or both be washed under the sanguine waves never to emerge again.
On that note, we do have another opening for someone to join the party, so tell your friends.
I'm not sure imaginary folks would be much help. I'd tell you but something gives me the impression you already know about this RP.
Fast travel bro
Need Pack Rat Perk! That or to decide what goodies to drop and what to keep... its Dead Money and the vault 'o' gold all over again!
Actually this RP gave me a hankering so bought all the DLCs n some mod shizz for Fallout 4 and gonna give it another go. The Vanilla failed to please me as much as New Vegas did, but I have hope now its been in the hands of the community for quite some time.
Excellent many thanks, and fair points all. I shall consider these.
I was hoping for him to be 'that odd one who loves his slave too much', but I'll have to think about the house point. Maybe he just continues to profess his love for Jarl Yrsa, fruitlessly so, or some other unobtainable object of desire.
I was hoping for him to be 'that odd one who loves his slave too much', but I'll have to think about the house point. Maybe he just continues to profess his love for Jarl Yrsa, fruitlessly so, or some other unobtainable object of desire.
Why thank you. But its no sandwhich.... my condolences Sol.
Another post up, just moving forwards so she'll be in a position to meet up with the rest sooner rather than later.
Another post up, just moving forwards so she'll be in a position to meet up with the rest sooner rather than later.
It had not been an easy day, not by a long shot. Annelise didn’t know how long she had lain beside the car, but she knew it had been for too long. Eventually she had stopped crying and shaking, had forced herself to realise that if she didn’t get up and move then she’d soon be as dead as the others. It had been difficult picking through her friends remains, each time she was forced to look at one of them again she felt like she’d break down again, but she just kept reminding herself that she had to survive, had to live, that if she died too then not only would they be dead but it would put the lives of everyone back in vault 96 at risk too. She wasn’t just surviving for herself anymore.
After again what felt like hours she had not only gathered together all of the vault dweller’s possessions but she had picked through the Raider’s things too. Altogether it was too much for her to carry, but right now she just wanted to get out of the open, out from under this endless sky that seemed to only bring misery and death. Annelise soon found herself with one pack slung over her shoulder and another she dragged behind her as she made her way into the abandoned factory that was a few minutes back down the road – making her way through the building slowly until she came to the office on the top floor. The trip was a miserable one, practically every part of her aching and throbbing, her hand especially. She wasted very little time in pushing a huge desk to block the door, still terrified that more Raiders might find her – but she needed to rest, needed to recuperate.
She pulled Antony’s medical kit from one of the bags and made her way into the restroom that was just off from the office. She had to again fight back tears as she began to pull the crystalline shards from her hand, her hands shaking and generous quantities of her blood flowing into the sink – she couldn’t ever recall feeling such agony. As she did she stopped to examine herself in the mirror, hardly recognising the face that stared back at her. There was blood smeared over her eyes, which were red and puffy – the right eye swollen and bruised as a black eye was rapidly beginning to form. A dark bruise ringed her neck from where she had been strangled and she was sure that her back and ribs too would be developing dark bruises. She finished pulling the last of the shards from her hand before she dropped the tweezers on the sink and pulled out a bottle of purified water before she cleaned the wound. Finally she pulled out one of the few stimpacks she had and injected it into her palm before she wrapped thin bandages around it. Already the stimpack was working its magic, the painful throbbing slowly subsiding. Next she turned to scrubbing the dried blood from her face before she wished that she was back in the vault once more, that she could shower with warm water, use a soft fluffy towel and then curl up in her cosy bed… preferably with Antony. Her vault suit was covered in deep patches of blood, some from Selby, some from the raiders and some of her own too. She wished she had a change of clothes, but instead had to ignore the clammy dried blood for the meantime.
She again had to fight away a wave of sadness as she made her way back into the office and tipped the contents of both backpacks onto the floor kneeling next to the piles. She would need to travel much lighter and so would need to decide what she would take and what she would leave behind. She flicked her Pip-Boy on and started to sort through the list of items as she stared dully at the bright screen, moving the items into two separate piles. As she came to the crippled remains of her AER9 rifle she frowned, it was clear that it was beyond salvageable in any sense of the word. It felt odd to still be upset by a broken rifle when already she was mourning some of her closest friends, but still she’d probably spent more time with the gun than she had with any of them and now it was gone too. The sense of loss was so overpowering she felt practically numb, she felt like just laying down and giving up. She finally turned her attention to the last small pile of items, the things that had belonged to the others that she hadn’t been able to leave behind. She wished that she had been able to burn their bodies or at the very least bury them, the thought of them simply laying and rotting out in the irradiated wastes made her feel sick again but she hadn’t dared spend any more time at the site of their confrontation in case the sounds drew in any other Raiders… or anything worse.
She picked up the necklace that had belong to Carrie, a gift from her husband before he’d died – she remembered her telling her. A little silver pendant in the shape of a bird, what kind of bird she had no idea since she’d never actually seen one in the flesh. She opened the clasp and slipped on Selby’s wedding ring and Dalton’s great great grandfather’s dog tags before she fastened it around her neck. She slipped a picture that technician Stevens had in his pocket of who she assumed was his daughter (her mother had once told her that she’d died of an illness before Annelise was born). Finally she had found a heart locket in Doctor Hadley’s breast pocket, upon opening it she was somewhat shocked to find that one side of it had a picture of her in, on the other side though was a picture of a younger Antony with a beautiful raven haired woman. She didn’t know who she was but the pair of them seemed happy and young, and judging by their embrace and where she had found the picture she guessed that she had meant a lot to him. She felt uncertain how appropriate it was for him to have kept it next to a picture of her, but since it was the only picture she had of him she slipped the locket into her own pocket.
Once she was finally done she moved over to the corner of the office furthest from the door before sitting down and laying the laser pistol comfortably within her reach. She had a bottle of water and the last of the food that they’d brought from the vault. She’d looked over the food the group had bought from the traders, but the Geiger counter on her Pip-Boy had shown her that it was all irradiated with low levels of radiation. Nothing deadly in the short term, but she wanted to avoid such food as long as she could. She sat in silence as she ate, thinking about her situation again and again, obsessing over what had happened and how it had happened. Suddenly it dawned on her that she had now killed at least six men. She wondered how many more she might have to kill before she managed to get home, if she ever did get home that was.
After again what felt like hours she had not only gathered together all of the vault dweller’s possessions but she had picked through the Raider’s things too. Altogether it was too much for her to carry, but right now she just wanted to get out of the open, out from under this endless sky that seemed to only bring misery and death. Annelise soon found herself with one pack slung over her shoulder and another she dragged behind her as she made her way into the abandoned factory that was a few minutes back down the road – making her way through the building slowly until she came to the office on the top floor. The trip was a miserable one, practically every part of her aching and throbbing, her hand especially. She wasted very little time in pushing a huge desk to block the door, still terrified that more Raiders might find her – but she needed to rest, needed to recuperate.
She pulled Antony’s medical kit from one of the bags and made her way into the restroom that was just off from the office. She had to again fight back tears as she began to pull the crystalline shards from her hand, her hands shaking and generous quantities of her blood flowing into the sink – she couldn’t ever recall feeling such agony. As she did she stopped to examine herself in the mirror, hardly recognising the face that stared back at her. There was blood smeared over her eyes, which were red and puffy – the right eye swollen and bruised as a black eye was rapidly beginning to form. A dark bruise ringed her neck from where she had been strangled and she was sure that her back and ribs too would be developing dark bruises. She finished pulling the last of the shards from her hand before she dropped the tweezers on the sink and pulled out a bottle of purified water before she cleaned the wound. Finally she pulled out one of the few stimpacks she had and injected it into her palm before she wrapped thin bandages around it. Already the stimpack was working its magic, the painful throbbing slowly subsiding. Next she turned to scrubbing the dried blood from her face before she wished that she was back in the vault once more, that she could shower with warm water, use a soft fluffy towel and then curl up in her cosy bed… preferably with Antony. Her vault suit was covered in deep patches of blood, some from Selby, some from the raiders and some of her own too. She wished she had a change of clothes, but instead had to ignore the clammy dried blood for the meantime.
She again had to fight away a wave of sadness as she made her way back into the office and tipped the contents of both backpacks onto the floor kneeling next to the piles. She would need to travel much lighter and so would need to decide what she would take and what she would leave behind. She flicked her Pip-Boy on and started to sort through the list of items as she stared dully at the bright screen, moving the items into two separate piles. As she came to the crippled remains of her AER9 rifle she frowned, it was clear that it was beyond salvageable in any sense of the word. It felt odd to still be upset by a broken rifle when already she was mourning some of her closest friends, but still she’d probably spent more time with the gun than she had with any of them and now it was gone too. The sense of loss was so overpowering she felt practically numb, she felt like just laying down and giving up. She finally turned her attention to the last small pile of items, the things that had belonged to the others that she hadn’t been able to leave behind. She wished that she had been able to burn their bodies or at the very least bury them, the thought of them simply laying and rotting out in the irradiated wastes made her feel sick again but she hadn’t dared spend any more time at the site of their confrontation in case the sounds drew in any other Raiders… or anything worse.
She picked up the necklace that had belong to Carrie, a gift from her husband before he’d died – she remembered her telling her. A little silver pendant in the shape of a bird, what kind of bird she had no idea since she’d never actually seen one in the flesh. She opened the clasp and slipped on Selby’s wedding ring and Dalton’s great great grandfather’s dog tags before she fastened it around her neck. She slipped a picture that technician Stevens had in his pocket of who she assumed was his daughter (her mother had once told her that she’d died of an illness before Annelise was born). Finally she had found a heart locket in Doctor Hadley’s breast pocket, upon opening it she was somewhat shocked to find that one side of it had a picture of her in, on the other side though was a picture of a younger Antony with a beautiful raven haired woman. She didn’t know who she was but the pair of them seemed happy and young, and judging by their embrace and where she had found the picture she guessed that she had meant a lot to him. She felt uncertain how appropriate it was for him to have kept it next to a picture of her, but since it was the only picture she had of him she slipped the locket into her own pocket.
Once she was finally done she moved over to the corner of the office furthest from the door before sitting down and laying the laser pistol comfortably within her reach. She had a bottle of water and the last of the food that they’d brought from the vault. She’d looked over the food the group had bought from the traders, but the Geiger counter on her Pip-Boy had shown her that it was all irradiated with low levels of radiation. Nothing deadly in the short term, but she wanted to avoid such food as long as she could. She sat in silence as she ate, thinking about her situation again and again, obsessing over what had happened and how it had happened. Suddenly it dawned on her that she had now killed at least six men. She wondered how many more she might have to kill before she managed to get home, if she ever did get home that was.
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