OOC:
http://www.legendofkrystal.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=5413&p=387879#p387879War... War never changes. The Romans waged war to gain slaves and wealth. Spain built an empire from its lust for gold and territory. Hitler shaped a battered Germany into an economic superpower. Later the spoils of war would become the weapons themselves. Beyond when the bombs fell and the vaults protected the lucky and wealthy, men and women still struggle to take from others what they would call their own. The remnants of Nevada still burn with the fires of war though a previous nobody known only as 'The Courier' went from a woman bent on revenge to the most powerful individual in the wastes. She'd shunned the advances of the NCR, Legion, Brotherhood of Steel, and any other hand reaching out under the guise of goodwill to make her own way and earned the ire of many in the process. Now she sits in her casino tower, The Lucky 38, and has her powerful robotic military force do her bidding from afar.
During the battle for the Hoover Dam, the Courier had struck a great blow against both the Legion and the NCR, depriving them of their leaders, General Oliver, Legate Lanius, even Caesar himself, slain at the hands of the whirlwind of a woman. The NCR would lick its wounds while another promising young man stepped into General Wait-and-see's boots. A man by the name of Roland Arnstein. He was cunning but overeager. He sent in forces to reclaim the strip almost immediately to get revenge for the fallen men of the NCR but the tanks, sentrybots, and good soldiers just joined those already dead when they crashed against the self repairing steel army the Courier possessed. Most of the NCR forces within Nevada are scattered, leaderless, and cut off from supply lines. The New California Republic's men in the Nevada need a hero or a miracle to make it out this one and take back the wastes in the name of order and control.
Likewise the Legion stumbled after the massive blow of losing their leader and being pushed back at the battle of Hoover Dam. For a time it appeared that predictions of their collapse would ring true. Then six new Legates appointed by a man claiming to be the Caesar took control of the faltering legion. They stripped the sexist views from the commanders of the legion and brought slaves up to be legionnaires once they proved their loyalty to the new Caesar and his Legates. With the sudden change in view, many of the Legion's men rose up against the 'equalist' philosophies of this unseen man and were summarily defeated by the mysterious leader's followers. Those groups that spoke out against the new leader were decimated. Every tenth man crucified as a reminder to all who remain that while some things have changed, the strength of Caesar had not. Thus, new missions to infiltrate the Vegas strip and take the abundant weapons possessed by the Courier were put into action. The legion was far from broken though they'd much to do in order to prove that.
None of this changed that the Mojave Desert was a cruel place to most. Sweltering days, freezing night, raiders, giant radioactive bugs, dangerous mutants, and a war smouldering under the 'protective' rule of the Courier. More people disappeared into the wastes each day, taken by rad poisoning, dehydration, or violence. Still people were determined to make a living where they found themselves, assuming that anywhere else would be just as bad and aided by the knowledge that getting anywhere else was more deadly than staying put often times. So, another blistering day dawns on the restless sands of the Mojave and the cogs of new plans and schemes begin to turn.
Diana:
Spoiler (click to show/hide):
(luck roll: 10, Perception roll: 6)
It was a morning like any other. You wake up, eat a small meal of stale water and hard tack before checking your pack and gear. With your morning ritual out of the way, you gather things up and trudge along the weather beaten path a couple miles out of the old abandoned NCR checkpoint. The towering Rangers shaking hands now just two piles of rubble that marred the hill they sat upon. While you move on ahead though, the sound of a racket reaches your ears as chittering and skittering feet rush about nearby. You've hardly time to draw a weapon before you see a couple of giant worker ants moving toward you, gnashing sharp jaws ready to tear flesh from bone should they get close enough. There was more to it though, as down on the road, you could hear a racket that was likely soldier ants or worse getting agitated by something. This was the Mojave though. You've seen it before and you'll see it again. Just another fight for your life among the dozens.
Maggeh:
Spoiler (click to show/hide):
(luck roll: 5, Perception roll: 1, Agility roll: 5, Ant Soldier Str roll: 15, 0 damage)
Shit sucked. You were sore, tired and uncomfortable after being run off by a group of merchants that mistook you for a deathclaw and didn't stop firing to let you explain. You'd holed up in the burnt out remains of an old car stuck on the road near the old NCR checkpoint. It had been raining which was welcome as you didn't need to empty any of your bottles to get a drink before you hit the hay but it was a shitty way to sleep, damp and in the elements. You barely wake up to the sound of something banging on the car's hood though you're too bleary to pay much attention to it. Seconds later something grips your ankle and it feels plenty uncomfortable, pinching your skin and grinding against you, making waking up much easier. Beside you was a giant ant, almost as long as you were tall, gripping your leg with its massive jaws and trying to pull you from the car, thinking you were another meal. It was time to prove it wrong.
Xiu:
Spoiler (click to show/hide):
(luck roll: 20)
You'd woken up early as usual, having just finished diving through a vault overgrown with plant life, giant bugs and worse. At least you had found a fair bit of gear and hadn't broken anything but now you found yourself without much in the way of direction. The Vegas strip was beyond your financial means, though Freeside, while dangerous was a good place to learn about rumors and recent events in the wastes. Still there were hundreds of buildings about between your current location, west of Vegas, and the entrance to Freeside. The land just under the strip's fortifications was rife with raider activity though you might be able to work your charms even on those drug addicted psychos. The northern side was mostly barren, already picked over thanks to its safer nature. Of course there was always striking out in a new direction and seeing what luck would bring you. It was a new day and you were feeling fine.
Abigail:
Spoiler (click to show/hide):
(Luck roll: 9, perception roll: 20)
Another morning greets you as you wake up upon the cardboard bedding that had acted as your camping spot for the night. Maximus was up and barking at something in the distance and you were fully awake with you machete and pistol in your hands. Taking a low stance you stare down the road you'd camped next to as two men in leather armor lazily walk toward you, laser pistols in hand. One of them calls out to you with a rather gruff voice, "Hey lady! Morning to ya. All your caps and ammo or your life. Take a choice. We'll even go easy on you, 10 caps or bullets a pop for you and the mutt and we'll let you go unharmed. If you're strapped for cash we can work something else out I'm sure." The one on the left with a pock marked face and dirty brown hair waves dismissively as he finished speaking. His companion looking a bit more built than he and shave completely bald just stares at Maximus, looking a bit more pissed off than most.
War Momma:
Spoiler (click to show/hide):
(Luck roll: 12)
Shit was fucked. You'd been sent in with your mechanized unit to see about striking against some bunker that the higher ups had determined was a point of interest for the Courier. You'd not seen advanced war droid coming in on your vehicle until it was too late. Several sections of your tank had been turned to slag and the engine was inoperable. The ammo was stripped from the cannon's feed belt though the automatons left you and several of your men alive as they rooted through your tank while you were sitting unconscious in the driver's seat. When you'd woke up you'd found the situation and swore to set things proper. The wounded were tended to as best as you could manage in the field and the only way to really get them back up and safely evac-ed would be to get the tank moving again. Your boys had an NCR radio back at the little camp you'd made around the tank's hull and you had your own as well to talk to them if need be. Radioing the operators that were supposed to be manning the main base just outside the Courier's territory hadn't got you anywhere even before your tank was busted. Here you were, gear in hand and a small town on the horizon. Maybe some of the poor sods there had gotten lucky scrounging and had something you could use.
Emile:
Spoiler (click to show/hide):
(Luck roll: 7, Agility roll: 13, perception roll: 18)
The wastes were as annoying to trudge through as ever. You'd not even seen another human face in a bit over two days and you were starting to think that your sense of direction was playing tricks on you. The rocky canyons you were navigating felt like a horrible maze and every other turn seemed to end with a sheer rock wall. You'd tried to climb up the edges a couple of times but the brittle rocks and dry earth crumbled in your hands and wouldn't support your weight whenever you got a purchase. Like this you stomped onward, Armor feeling a bit uncomfortable at this point as you hoped the next turn would show you something better. Anything but more canyon. You got what you were hoping for but it was a cruel perversion of that wish as your next step let out a crack that echoed off the canyon walls before everything went still. Slowly you tried to lift your foot and move backward but in a rush of motion the ground fell out underneath you and you were enveloped in darkness as you hurtled into the unknown. It only took a second for you right yourself as you fell and slam into the earth on your feet, the boom of your sudden stop echoing like an explosion.
Everything was dark, the hole in the ceiling apparently collapsing in on itself. Slowly you flick on the headlights of your power armor and find yourself in a circular cavern room, filled with large white eggs. Then the sound of heavy footfalls reaches your ears and you turn to the side to see a six foot tall Deathclaw standing at what must be the entrance to this cavern chamber from the tunnels beyond. It stared at you for a moment, its thick corded muscles twitching as it makes sense of just what was shining a brilliant white light its way. This was your chance to get the drop on it before it charged. Deathclaws had earned their name for a reason.
Alana:
Spoiler (click to show/hide):
(Luck roll: 19)
It was the third day of the scrounging run you'd been forced out on. Manpower was low so you'd been pressed to go out on your own despite your own feelings on the situation. Worse still you were forced to wear an older model power suit in what felt almost enough like bullshit that you had almost wanted to accuse your superior Vance Declain of sending you out on a suicide mission. This wasn't what you were meant to be doing with your time as a member of the Circle. There were rogue brothers to bring to justice and at the very least tech to repossess and keep from being misused. Sadly your thoughts were brought to a stop when your suit started to pick of signs of radiation nearby. Cresting the hill you'd been climbing up you stared out at a plot of muck and mud littered with radioactive waste barrels. from your vantage point you could see at least three centaurs, mutant heaps of flesh that could spit acid, squirming about in the mud. The glint of something else sticking out from the toxic sludge caught your eye as you grabbed your sniper and checked its scope. There was something resembling the armored sleeve of a set of CoS recon armor laying, torn from the rest of the gear, about fifty yards into the toxic waste pat.
