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Fallout: Storm Over The Mojave


Macman253

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This is the RP section, The Rules are simple.

 

 

No Godmodding: Example "I Kill the deathclaw with my 9mm pistol."

 

Do not control another players character(s): Example "I swing my sledgehammer at Joe, joe goes flying into the wall"

 

Have Fun!

 

 

With that out of the way, I wish you luck...The Mojave Awaits...

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It was midday on the western bank of the Colorado River, two men and a woman walked along the edge, holding lever action carbine rifles and wearing the armor of the New California Republic Rangers.

 

"Smith, what are we doin' out here anyway?" The one at the end of the squad asked the woman at the front.

 

Smith replied "Were on patrol, lookin' for legion in the area."

 

The Ranger smiled "Good, I hope I kill me one...I hear the Quartermaster at Forlorn Hope pays for Legion Ears..."

 

One of the other Rangers laughed. "Yeah he does, but don't go takin' my ears Dobbs."

 

Dobbs picked up a rock and playfully thew it at the mouthy Ranger. "Screw you Coulson, I'll be the first to kill a legionary today."

 

Coulson nodded and moved his hand like a talking mouth and made a sarcastic face. Smith peered around them and as Dobbs and Coulson began to argue back and forth like children she shushed them, a nearby cliff drew her attention.

 

"For Caesar!" The Legionary yelled as he charged from their rear, at that call they descended like vultures on the three man squad. Smith blasted the first with her rifle and he dropped, Dobbs struck one running up to him with the stock of his rifle and Coulson drew his .357 revolver and shot the nearest Legionary in the face, the round tore out of the back of his skull and the body went limp and fell to the ground.

 

A Legionary stood up on the nearby ridge, about ten feet above them and aimed as he drew back to throw his spear, as he pulled back a large flat bladed sword erupted from his chest and turned, the legionary spat up blood and lifted off the ground slowly. The man behind him kicked the dying legionary off his sword and the body fell to the earth below the ridge. He threw back his coat and pulled out a sawed off lever action Winchester that had the stock and barrel sawed down to make it a pistol sized weapon, The Stranger fired a round at the charging legionary and he dropped instantly as the bullet went into his face and the body slid to a stop at the Strangers feet. The Rangers held their own against the legionaries, Dobbs took a spear to the shoulder that pierced through his body and left his arm dangling lifelessly at his side.

 

Smith emptied her gun after killing another Legionary, she grabbed it by the barrel and struck another legionary hard across the face with the stock of the rifle, his jaw shattered like a glass cup being hit with a baseball bat. Coulson pistol whipped a legionary as a hatchet thrown by a charging legionary stuck itself in his chest. Coulson spat up blood and dropped to his knees, The legionary drew his machete and stepped up, he lifted the sword high, his eyes full of murder and the blade struck home on Coulson's neck and his head dropped to the ground at his feet.

 

"NOO!" Yelled Dobbs as he drew his sidearm and fired three rounds into the Legionaries chest and stood. Another Legionary swung at him with his sword but Dobbs rolled to his side and drew his knife, he jammed the blade into the Legionaries stomach and kicked him away and forced himself to his feet to run to Coulson's side.

 

The Stranger appeared from behind a rock and sliced down with his Machete, the Legionary screamed as his arm was taken off at the elbow as he tried to take the head of the weeping soldier. The Stranger kicked hard and the screaming Legionary fell back on his back as blood spurted from his arm. The legion ambush was broken, the remaining legionaries retreated back into the desert.

 

Smith stood up, her face bloodied and her armor stained. Dobbs weeped at his brothers side and clutched his head in his arms.

 

"Who are you?" Smith asked the Stranger. She looked at his foreign appearance, his duster was a dark blue and covered in dirt, his hair was fashioned into braids. His skin dark and covered in countless scars and tattoos. She looked closer to see that they were of tribal origin., his braids contained various beads and a large Raven feather latched to the braid. Various colored beads hung around his neck and a long string with tufts of human hair of various colors hung on his waist. The sleeves on his longcoat were torn off and the bandolier across his chest had spare rounds for his rifle.

 

"I am...someone.." He said in a deep raspy voice. he slid his rifle into the holster on his leg and walked over to the Legionary's corpse and took a stone knife from his belt and sawed off the scalp of the legion soldier. Smith watched in amazement as the Stranger took the scalps off of each of the Legionaries and tucked them into his rooksack at his side.

 

"Tell me who you are!" She yelled as she drew her pistol and aimed it at the Stranger, He looked over his shoulder and sighed. "You can kill me but he won't like that..." The Stranger said as he nodded to the large mongrel growling loudly behind her. She looked at the dog and the stranger and lowered her pistol.

 

"Please tell me who you are..." She asked, The Stranger turned to her and smiled. Smith looked at him oddly, seeing he had no love of the Legion.

 

"I am Ronin...He is Sam." He said as he pointed at the dog behind her. She saw the tribal tattoos on his arms closer and aimed her pistol at him. "You are a tribal savage aren't you?" She asked, her pistol shaking in her hand.

 

Sam barked at her and she turned to look at him, in the split second she looked away Ronin moved on her like a deathclaw. He grabbed her hand and twisted her wrist causing her pistol to fall from her hand and he had his machete to her throat before she could scream in pain. Her eyes wide with fear she peered closely into the eyes of the stranger. His eyes were cold, like they have seen countless amounts of death and blood. He looked and moved like he was born in battle and he practiced the art of war his whole life.

 

"I won't kill you...if you don't try and kill me." He said, his voice always calm and reserved. Katerine Smith had her life flash through her eyes, her childhood on the brahmin ranch in california, her departure to the Mojave and her induction into the Rangers along with the death of her commanding officer and husband at the hands of Legionaries at Hoover Dam. Katherine had no love of Tribals, not since her father died in a 80's attack on their ranch when she was just a girl.

 

Ronin removed the blade from her throat and wiped the blood off with a hide rag and slid it into its sheath across his back. He whistled for Sam to follow and he vanished before she could say anything to him. Katherine went over to Dobbs who had fallen quiet to see he had died to blood loss from the spear sticking through his shoulder. She took his and Coulson's dog tags and left for Camp Forlorn Hope.

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The Gibson Scrapyard, AKA the Regulator Headquarters.

 

It wasn't the worst place you could put up a fort, strong walls made from broken cars had already been put up, and rearranging some extra junk lying around to reinforce said walls only made them stronger. The garage also served as a half-decent barracks for exhausted Regulators returning from a long job. Bunk beds were placed neatly every metre or so away from each other, about half of them filled. Jason Rivers walked through here, trying (and failing utterly) at being quiet. At least he didn't wake anyone up, although they'd be expecting a noisy sleeping space. His loyal German Shepherd tarried a bit behind him, taking in the sounds and smells of the garage, a unique mix of dust, people, and oil, but never strayed more than ten meters.

 

Today Jason wasn't hunting, he was heading up to the 188 trading post to get some ammo and supplies, both of which he was low on after the week's fighting. The Ghoul Liberation Force was the Regulator's primary enemy out here, essentially being raiders with a false sense of morality, which simply made them more determined. A strong gust of wind whipped the Mojave, kicking sand into the air and lifting the coattails of Jason's long regulator duster into the air, where they snapped about feverishly. He slipped on a pair of sunglasses and kept his hand on his scoped .44. He could never be too careful.

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It was early evening in the Sodom, and quite a few patrons had begun pouring in, taking seats in the area near the stage, waited on by the scantily clad waitresses, all flirting with the patron, trying to earn themselves a generous tip. In some corners, there were patrons making out with other patrons, with waitresses, prostitutes... it was a scene of depravity, but in the world as it was, depravity meant money.

 

Lady Kihlkov sat backstage, at her boudoir, adding the finishing touches to her makeup, making the flicks of her Cat's eyes bigger, and colouring in her beauty spot just a little bit more. It was best to be wearing more makeup than need be, than getting it wrong by wearing too little.

 

"You're on in five Kill!" One of the girls shouted, poking her head through the dressing room door.

"Alright hon, i'm done." Kihlkov replied, a smile gracing her lips as she stepped into her glittering high heels. She checked her outfit over, making sure her corset was done up. She then slipped on a large, tailed coat, a miniature top-hat, and pulled her netting over her face a little more.

 

"And Now Folks! The Madame of the House! The Enchantress of Vegas! Laaadyyy Kihlkov!" Announced the deep voice of a large, suited man who was on-stage. He left the stage, and the orchestra began to play there 40's music, trombones and other instruments sounding primarily.

 

Kihlkov graced onto the stage, a large dress cane in her hands, swaying her hips side to side, and moving sexily, she posed a number of times with the cane, before abruptly throwing it aside, and groping herself through her jacket. She began to do a glove peel, prancing sensually around the stage as she did so, between each finger she wiggled her body, and winked at the audience. She then sped up the pace of the peel, and threw the gloves languidly aside, her bare hands on show to the audience. She elegantly strutted the stage, moving her hips in a dazzling way, making sure her movements would be watched. As her back was turned from the audience, she threw off her hat, and then turned with a wink, her hands on her hips, swaying side to side.

 

Every time she moved her hands, it was in the most exaggerated, elegant way anyone could do, and she moved them quite a bit. As she walked forwards on the stage, she began loosening her skirt, suddenly throwing it aside, making a gasp, and batting her eyelashes. Next, after a strut from one side of the stage to the other, she unfastened the cuffs on her jacket, pulling them up, and stroking her bare arms. She let them fall again, and with a huge grin, she began to unbutton her jacket, suddenly pulling it open, and then closing it on her chest again. She made a shimmy, spun on the spot, and allowed her jacket to fall to the ground, her tight leather corset on show, she gasped again, crouching down, feeling from the bottom of her ankles up the inside of her legs, moving her hands up slowly as she rose, moving up her groin, and over her breasts, giving them a slight squeeze.

 

She turned seductively, her buttock stuck out, as her deft fingers slowly began to unlace her corset, tugging free a few threads, in between every one or two, she gave a wink, in time with a trombone hoot, until the lace was all unravelled. When it was, she pranced around for a while, leaving the crowd wanting more, and she turned her back from them, her bottom shaking sensually, and she unfastened the front panel of the corset, and let it drop to the floor. She turned back around with a cheeky wink, her nipples covered from view by metal plates. After dancing for a while longer, she began to take off her stockings, stepping out of her shoes, and slowly unravelling them, leg by leg, until the pulled them off and tossed them aside, grinning cheekily to the crowd. Slipping back into her heels, she danced around the stage a while longer, and finished up her act by leaning back into a chair, her back arched over it.

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Ronin walked north-west, he had to get more ammo and get word on Legion patrols. The best place for that was the 188 trading post. The banks of the Colorado were littered with mines and waiting Legion ambushes, over the last few months they have been pushing deeper into the Mojave. He walked quietly, Sam panted somewhat loudly but he could hear it in the distance. Footsteps, he took his stone knife from his belt and stuck it in the dirt and got down on his knee and placed his ear on the hilt.

 

The vibrations of footsteps, maybe half a mile on the road to the 188, from the sound it was ten men..."Caravan."He thought but he also heard the motor of a robot. "Mercenaries, plus the Caravan. Look's like Crimson Caravan goods.." He thought as he removed the blade from the dirt and stuck it in his belt. He threw back his coat and drew his Mares Leg and spun the weapon to chamber a round. He moved up the hill quickly and looked down onto the 95, there in the distance he could make out the Caravan, from what he could see it was four teamsters, a driver and five guards plus the Sentry Bot at the rear.

 

He knew that they would have to circumvent the 188 since that was Gun Runner territory, but how he wondered. He moved on from his place and continued onto the 188.

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Daniel sat on his leather chaise, his half naked maids around him, tending to his every need. He was completely beguiled by the amazing, seductive performance: so much in fact that he started to drool. The suspense made him feel...aroused, he was speechless for a moment, gazing at Lady Kihlkovs great assets. His eyes followed her every movement and he occasionally made a deep moaning noise. Daniel was desperate to reach out and touch her but he couldn't, suddenly he leapt out of his seat, threw his hat on the floor and whistled as loud as he could. The rest of the crowd also started to cheer and clap, probably experiencing the same feelings Daniel was. Of course Daniel was the only one who could touch her...if anyone else tried to touch her they would be kicked out of the casino "the old fashioned way" Edited by AnotherAverageName
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Lady Kihlkov got up from the chair with a huge grin, waving and smiling at the audience, blowing kisses, and winking, giving one to Daniel, before turning to walk to the stage door, wiggling her bottom one last time for the Audience, before vanishing behind the door.

 

The band assembled on the stage, and began playing jazzy music, to set the scene for the evening.

 

Back-stage, Kihlkov didn't have much to change out of, rather, she had clothes to change into. She picked out a sparkly black lace leopard beaded, long sleeve gown which had a narrowing panel, it was in incredible condition, albeit with a few rips and tears here and there, but for an outfit in the wastelands, it was top quality. Kihlkov re-did her hair into a silky perm, and got about adding her own little twist to the outfit. She stuck on a pair of red heels, stockings, and a pair of lace gloves, which had the little, and index finger cut out. She slipped on a single ring, and some pearl earrings.

 

She emerged back into the room via the main door, smiling and giving small waves to the patrons that told her she did an amazing performance. She walked sensually over to Daniel's Chaise, and sat herself on it besides him. "Well honey darling... how was i?"

Edited by mythicdawnmaster
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A few kilometers down the road, the Regulator Headquarters had disappeared into the distance, and the Novac dinosaur was briefly visible. At least the wind felt nice on Jason's face, because the desert sun was pounding on him. He had a hat on his head, similar to those the NCR rangers wore, that was a darker brown than his duster. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearm, despite the risk of sunburn. He had slid some sunglasses over his eyes to protect himself from the glare coming off the sand. He drank a swig of water and gave some to Guardian as well. He fingered the dogtags around his neck, from the Brotherhood of Steel. They identified him as the paladin he was, although he kept them hidden underneath his undershirt. He passed by a caravan, and could just barely see the 188 on the distance, marked primarily by a small smoke trail from the various trashcan fires and camp sites, and rippled with mirage. It was damned hot out here, nothing like DC.

 

One thing Jason did definitely have his eye on was the figure in the distance, wearing a duster similar to Jason himself. As he looked closer, through a pair of binoculars that he carried around (for examining unknown distant objects. Regulators got a lot of use out of them.) He could just barely see another, smaller shape beside him, probably a dog. He couldn't tell for sure though, the mirage was powerful today. He casually kept his hand on the revolver at his side, ready to draw and fire in an instant. Guardian noted the wary behaviour, he was a smart dog. His ears were pointed straight up, listening for any sounds. Jason hmph'd and patted his beloved dog's head affectionately.

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Ronin walked into the flourishing Gun Runners trading post, The 188 had become a respite for travelers on the highway. here caravans came to resupply and trade. The NCR had a small outpost here in their agreement with The Gun Runners because they were the primary supplier for the NCR. Ronin knew that tribals had faced bigotry and even violence at the hands of NCR troopers recently, the war with Caesars Legion has escalated these feelings of resentment ever since The Battle Of Hoover Dam. He kept his head low and walked on, the soldiers looked at him and mostly gave him looks of disgust and spat at him, calling him savage and cannibal. He ignored them and sat down at The Slop And Shop.

 

he threw a few caps on the table and the girl behind the counter gave him a nuka cola, he checked the cap and saw a blue star on it and smiled, he pocketed the cap and drank from the ice cold soda. He listened to the radio, New California Free Radio, a local pirate radio DJ that like to broadcast on the war, the soldiers listened to it because it kept them in touch with the going's on and also made them aware of enemy activity.

 

"Hey! This is The Wolfman Jack callin' you all in the NCR 1st battalion stationed at Forlorn Hope, be careful out there cause Caesars boys are reported to be hopping about near Nelson. This is New California Free Radio and your man Wolfman, so see you lata'." said the voice over the radio.

 

Ronin glanced around to see two NCR troopers stumble out of the tent, one of them wearing a brand new lieutenants stripes and beret. They saw the dreadlocked figure sitting at the bar and walked over. The other trooper lit a cigarette and laughed as the lieutenant smiled and stroked one of his dreadlocks.

 

"Tribal, these look important...wonder what happens if I cut one of them off." he said as he reached for his bayonet, Ronin grabbed the mans hand and twisted the blade from it, he hit him in the face and tripped the mouthy Officer, as he fell Ronin grabbed the mans 9mm pistol and leveled it at the nearby trooper before he could draw his own pistol. The trooper raised his hands and stared at Ronin, expecting him to blow him away.

 

"Your supposed to be the great liberators, your nothing but cowards..." He said coldly as he ejected the round and skillfully dismantled the slide and tossed the pieces aside and walked away. The officer got up, his nose was broken and bleeding and he glared at the Tribal that humiliated him. The girl behind the counter laughed at the troopers, The lieutenant turned his glare to her.

 

"Whats so funny Michelle?" He asked in a threatening tone.

 

She looked at him and smiled. "Your lucky he didn't kill you..." She said as she cleaned a cup.

 

The Officer glared at her and then asked. "Who is he?"

 

Michelle set the cup down and threw the rag over her shoulder. "His name is Ronin, he is the best scout and tracker in the Mojave." She replied as she watched him walk away. "He was a tribal scout, until Caesars Legion enslaved his tribe, now hes the last of them." She added and then walked in the back of the shop.

 

Ronin approached the weapons vendor at the 188, the lower section was the official market, it had food vendors, armor vendors and junk vendors plus Alexanders Gun Emporium. The Gun Runners used this place as a stopping point for their shipments and Alexander oversaw all the shipments coming through and set himself up a nice little business selling weapons. Alexander smiled as Ronin approached.

 

"Ronin good to see you man, how has the wastes been treating you?" he asked as he pulled the bolt back on a NCR standard issue Service Rifle and checked the chamber.

 

Ronin grunted what could be determined as a 'Okay' and looked over the weapons. He saw a few claymores and a bandolier of frag grenades and pointed to them. Alexander tossed them over to him gladly and smiled. "So that will be, four hundred caps for the claymores and five for the frags.." Ronin reached into his pouch and drew out a large quantity of Legion Denarius that he had taken from the bodies of hunted legionaries. Alexander smiled and looked at the gold coins. "See you next time pal, here take some ammo for that Mares Leg." he tossed him a box of .357 rounds, Ronin caught it and tucked it into his rooksack.

 

Nighttime would be soon so he left the 188 and camped just outside of it on a small ridge overlooking the valley in which it sat in. He had caught himself a Igauna and stuck it on a stick and let it cook over the fire. After enjoying his meal, he sat on his bedroll and stared out over the valley. Sam laid on the ground nearby, chewing on a brahmin bone he had dug up somewhere.

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Both the figure and Jason reached the 188 without incident, and Jason went for the Slop and Shop to order his usual supply of food and water.

 

"Back around for your usual supplies, Jason?" Michelle, asked. She didn't dislike the man, he did good deeds. But he certainly wasn't a friendly guy.

 

"Yeah." He opened up his rucksack and made space for the new supplies, moving his hoodie, jeans, and other supplies aside. He packed in the bottled water and canned food, and then closed it up again and payed Michelle. He nodded and grunted something and then turned away, noting the tribal sitting by the bar. Guardian sniffed the man's dog, and then stayed by his master's side.

 

A hooded figure had been watching Jason intently, apparently interested in him....somehow. It looked to be an early-twenties woman. Jason noted the power fist on her hand and wondered if she was with the Brotherhood. "You look like you've come a long way down some bad roads, no offence. Where're you from?" She asked him, catching him off guard.

 

"Capital Wasteland." He muttered in response.

 

"Oh, I've heard of that. Washington D.C, right?" Jason nodded, exasperated. "Holy crap, that's on the other side of the country. What, did you spring here or something?"

 

"No." He replied. His voice was cold and hard, and many people had mentioned that he sounded like Boone from Novac.

 

"Wow, you're not much one for talking, then. Well, I'm Veronica. I live in a hole in the ground." Jason hmmed in acknowledgement and let her talk. "Well, a bunker, if you want to get technical. I get the groceries and stuff for my family, they seem to want to keep me out of their hair, so they sent me up here."

 

Jason nodded. "Technologically advanced, looks like. That's a pneumatic Power fist. Brotherhood level tech."

 

She shifted a little, something that was not lost on Jason. "Yeah. Lucky find while I was scavving, I do that. So where are you headed?"

 

He shrugged. "I go where I'm needed."

 

"Looks like we have that in common then. Listen, can I askyou something on the level?" Jason simply nodded again. "I had a run-in with this group, the Brotherhood of Steel, looks like you know about them already. What do you think of them?"

 

Jason narrowed his eyes. Power fist. Uncomfortable mentioning the Brotherhood, inconspicuously dressed. "Depends what chapter you're talking about. Mine I hold to the highest esteem. Others, not so much."

 

Veronica's eyes widened a little. "So, you're with them, huh? Watch it around the NCR, then. Hear they're enemies." She cocked her head a little and Jason could clearly see a chain around her neck.

 

"You can quit playing stupid with me. I see the dogtags, the power fist. You live in a bunker, you're dressed so as not to attract attention." He said quietly. NCR ears were everywhere.

 

Veronica was taken aback, this guy was smart. Smart enough to not expose her to the entire NCR camp. "Well, alright then. How about if we're going to discuss this we do it somewhere more inconspicuous?" she led him to a quiet spot underneath the bridge, near the Forecaster, who was gazing at Jason intently. "You're with the Brotherhood, then? What rank?"

 

"Paladin." He replied, a semblance of pride in his voice.

 

"I'm a scribe, more specifically a 'procurement specialist.' Like I said, basically grocery shopping. So why are you not with your chapter?"

 

"I'm here to try and help the Brotherhood. Both the Bear and Bull have the power to wipe you out, and I plan to change that. Somehow."

 

"Then why are you with the Regulators?" Veronica asked. "I know you, you've been here before."

 

Jason reverted to his usual tone of speaking, which involved as few words as he could use. "Morals."

 

"Ohh, you're from that chapter that got into a small civil war, right? I approve of what they're doing, they're getting involved, giving themselves a good name." Jason nodded. "Well, that doesn't surprise me, then. Say, don't you have the last member of the Maxson line with you?"

 

Jason almost smiled at the memory of Arthur, who would be nigh-on fighting age now, and nodded.

 

"Hm, impressive. Well, listen, we'd best not be seen talking here too long. Not to be paranoid, I'm not a loser shut-in like some of our fellows are. I'll see you around, something tells me you'll be in the Mojave for a while. Good to know I'm not alone out here, at least. God, that sounded frighteningly romantic." Jason nodded and walked away, and then turned to face her for a second.

 

"I'm here for tonight, if I'm needed." Then he turned and walked away again.

 

 

Nightfall was approaching, the Tribal had disappeared. Jason set up a small camp in a flat area behind the Gun Runners little shop, and had a campfire going. Guardian lay happily beside it on his side. Jason tucked himself comfortably into his sleeping bag, content. This was the closest he could get to home, by a campfire on the trail. This was his hearth.

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