Thanks to the work of the Vile and Sadistic Courier Caesars Legion booted the NCR out of the Mojave. The Brotherhood of Steel is wiped out, Robert house is a rotting corpse, and Caesar sits on his throne in the Lucky 38. While order's been brought to the Mojave its a enforced Peace. Those who refuse to obey are quickly put in their place. Be it slavery, or a grave. Most force themselves to live with this new rule. Some choose to flee the Mojave. Others...Choose to fight...However they don't often live long. Perhaps you can be the exception to this? Or maybe you'll die like so many others, forgotten to history with no one to mourn your passing...
Much like the game this Rp is based around it will begin in goodsprings. Now, I'm assuming you'll all be familiar with the locations in the game. Obviously they'll be a wee bit different on account of the Legions occupation. I'll describe how they are when we get to them. Goodsprings is generally uneffected aside from a few legion parties coming through. Most people have left the town save for those who are loyal or stubborn.
While you're character can be as mean as you like don't be mean (OOC.)
Obviously don't make your character flawless and perfect. Everyone has a flaw of some sort and aren't the best at everything blah blah you get the point.
One character and a companion are allowed but no more. However you may kill them off to bring someone else in.
Protagonists from other games are allowed, however if they're taken by someone you may not use them.
Forum and Community Guidelines apply.
No sexual content.
In order to join the Rp you need a couple things.
First off is your character, here are the things required. However you can include things that aren't here.
Race: (Ghoul, Supermutant, human, etc.)
Perks: (Realistic ones only. If I don't deem them realistic I'll tell you to change them.) (Three at max.)
(If you're character is canon include it in these brackets.)
And an introduction post obviously.
Now, I shall get onto mine.
In Rp stuff:
Age: Over two hundred
Attire:Stained and faded Leather armor with a yellow '13' sewn into the back.
Equipment:A 357. Revolver, A scoped hunting rifle, a trench knife, two plasma grenades.
Skills: Albert is a skilled tracker, able to find most people when they seem to have 'disappeared', He's also quite skilled with a gun...Assuming they aren't energy weapons. While its not his best skill he can give most people a run for their money.
Perks:Rapid reload, Swift learner, Heave ho.
Appearance: Albert looks like your average ghoul. He has a small amount of facial hair remaining, blue ish eyes. He's a tall and Slender man.
Albert grumbled quietly while he sipped at a bottle of Nuka-Cola. Despite being a Saloon he didn't drink any alcohol. He wasn't too big of a drinker and only drank on 'very' special occasions. He looked up towards the bartender. She was an older woman, He believed her name was Trudy or something along those lines. This wasn't a very populated town. Seeing the Legionnaires in the corner he assumed they were one of the reasons. However the Legions presence didn't seem very large here. Mind you this wasn't too big a town, it probably didn't have enough for them to put a large force here. He wasn't fond of the Legion, but he couldn't deny that they brought order to the Chaos that was the Mojave. However it wasn't the type of Order most would prefer. It was the 'do as we say or your terrible life will be made even worse' kind. He was tempted to go back West. But for some reason he didn't. Maybe he was just stupid? That was probably it. Who else in their right mind would remain in this hellish place. He looked to his right hand, it was a little wet from the cold bottle. He placed the bottle on the table he was at and wiped the hand off on his side. The leather felt rough against his already rough hands. He looked up from himself, the blue eyes that inhabited his eye sockets going around the room again. He was always watching his surroundings. You never knew would someone would sneak up on you and ruin your day in one way or another.
He raised the bottle back up to his rough and cracked lips. The liquid poured in and ran down his gullet when he gulped. The bottle was half full now. He loved his cola. Loved the taste, the feeling of it in his mouth, how cold it was. He raised it up to his forehead, and pressed it against his skull. It was hot in the wasteland, a few drops of moisture came off the bottle, it ran down his head and too his eyes causing him to close them and wipe the liquid away. Once again he placed the bottle on the table. He put both hands out infront of him, put them together, and continued to crack his knuckles. When his hands lowered and left his sight he let out a sigh. The Legionaries seemed to have taken a bit of interest in him. One hand slid under the table and continued to loosen the the revolver in its holster.