The Return of Arc
KING

* * *

Out of the wilderness of the wasteland, comes a man. This man is Arc, the post-apocalyptic barbarian. He travels the world hunting for purpose and caps. Alas, now, he will discover his ultimate belonging...


* * *

Prolouge


The three buses moved through the weeds and desert sands of the Eastern wasteland. Within a moment, the convoy turned onto a broken, cracked road. Beyond the railing alongside the road was nothing but more wasteland, and on the far-off horizon, were the ruins of New York City. The city was once one of the largest, most-successful cities on the planet Earth. When the bombs fell, it was destroyed, but now, it had been being rebuilt slowly by wandering civilian groups. It was nearly thriving once more, and was especially well-defended by the Guardians of New York.

The buses rolled down the torn-up highway, carrying supplies and weapons for the people of the city. The drivers of these buses had uncovered them in some ruins far south in the Capitol Wasteland region. One of them was an expert mechanic, and fixed the vehicles up to at least run. They had repaired the large gaps in the tortured metal with steel panels taken out of the settlement of Megaton. They had used battery power and generators to get the vehicles to run.

The mufflers of the lead bus, in the front of the convoy, The Bane Hole, coughed up black smoke. It's driver, the captain of this little 'fleet', John Black, steered the bus down the winding broken highway, off the devastated trail and onto a newer trail built by the new citizens of New York City. The convoy bumped down the trail, John removing his goggles off his blackened, tired eyes, and looked back at the one or two passengers in the leather seats.

"We've reached New York!" He yelled, coughing after. "Once we stop at the warehouses, ya'll are free to disembark!" He said, coughing once more. The convoy entered the city's walls, not much different than those surrounding Megaton up in the Capitol Wasteland. All metal, with a single gate. Poor-looking citizens toiled about their work on the inside while guards of the Guardians stood atop the ramparts with rifles to stand against the nearby Raider camps that threatened them. The buses turned several corners, already being followed by a mob of civilians eager to restock on supplies. The buses stopped at several warehouses built into the ruins of blasted-out skyscraqers, known as "The Market" by the locals. John Black got off first, waving his arms for the others to follow. He did his best to keep off the horde of people wanting food and treasures from across the wasteland away from his convoy while the workers from the other buses got to work loading and stocking, people running from The Market to come to their aid.

Two people stepped off of The Bane Hole. One was a seedy-looking man in a torn leather trench coat, sporting a mohawk and wandered into the city. The other, was much larger. This was Arc the barbarian. He was around six feet tall, was brown of hair of which reached down to his shoulders. He had no shirt on his tanned, bronze-skinned body. He wore brahmin-hide shorts he had made for himself a bit further north, where he met up with the convoy on the way from the town of Suffield, which was quite a ways away. He had at his side, sheathed in it's scabbard, a sword. The sword was known as the Emerald Sword of Emperors. Only he knew its true purpose. The sword had a green glass-like blade made of a stone harder and sharper than diamonds, that only he knew the location of. It was given to him a long, long time ago. He defended this world with this blade. Without a single spoken word, the giant wandered through the mob of people, towards the nearest tavern, built into Times Square, or what had once been Times Square...

I liked it. I think it could be longer, but it's interesting, though I have a few questions. Like how did they get the metal from Megaton? Did they steal it or does it lay in ruins? Also the Emerald sword of Emperors seemed kinda corny and out of place in the fallout world. I'm also interested in how Arc is going to fight enemies, when then they have guns. Other than that, it was pretty good.

Lol, as soon as I read the description of the character I thought "Oh, so he's Conan." Not necessarily a bad thing seeing as how I like those books, but you may want to differentiate your character from that one.

Washington D.C. is south of New York

Maybe he meant they went far up in the capital wasteland, like maybe the northern part of it?

1. I plan on adding installments as time goes on.

2. They stole it ;D tis the way of the wasteland, my friend.

3. We will see now, wont we? I never said his sword is his only weapon.



Let me inform you of Arc's birth. One day, my friend made up his own Post-Apocalyptic pencil and paper RPG for our afterschool gaming club, known as Wanderer. The same thing as fallout basically, but less desert. One day, after my first character died, I had to come up with a new one to join back in on the action. Before this I had read all of the Conan stories, and own all of the originals in the books I had purchased from Barnes and Noble. Well, one week long, I was sick. On the second to last day, I was on the couch, sick, not really able to move. The only movie on was Conan The Destroyer (believe me I loved the stories 10000 times more than the movies). I was like... "WOAH A POST APOCALYPTIC BARBARIAN SWEET!" the next day, Arc was born, and the following week he helped several travellers fight off a mutant horde in a game of Wanderer.

A few weeks later, at a carnival in town, a friend approached me wearing a trenchcoat and looking all seedy. He says "Dude, how much do you love me?" He has something in his pocket. I say "Um... well now... err... due to you having an unknown object in your pocket, a lot?" He produces Fallout 1 and 2 from his pocket, and we go to my house and play them. I was annoyed by I love oldschool games sooo... Then I instantly moved Arc into the Fallout universe. Arc's current place is the main protagonist in my own made-up universe Saga of Man, of which I am writing a novel for.

With this story King, however, I wanted to give him back to Fallout for a tad bit.

Well defiantly sounds interesting and lot more unique than everything else here. I'm wondering what other weapons Arc may have that could help in long ranges. For I'm also making a Fan Fic where the main character user wields a sword, but I have a reason on why he can fight close combat when every one else has ranged weapons. I'm looking forward to how you deal with it. I hope to see more chapter soon.

Let's ask ourselves this? What is the point of going out into a place like the Wasteland with only a ranged weapon, or only a melee weapon? It is dumb, unless you know how to use it... or both... Anyways, next chapter will be up soon.

If you were normal that is...

One

Arc moved through the mass of people. Never before had he seen such a grand gathering of bodies. All of them were covered in rags of skin and fur. Some had pre-war clothing on. The barbarian felt not at home, being at least a head taller than most of the people in the city. He made it to the local tavern after asking several people for directions. The place was called "our easons", with most of the sign being blackened out. Arc walked inside of the building. Instantly the stench of smoke filled his nostrils. The place was very foggy, and many lowlifes inhabited it. Arc moved through the crowd, eventually reaching the bar, which looked as though it had been replaced several times. He sat down. The bartender was a Ghoul, and immediately came over to serve him. "What can I get you?" The Ghoul asked, his voice raspy. It was not the first time Arc had ever seen a Ghoul before. He had helped free some Ghoul slaves from some Raider camps in Maine, and had also ran into his fair share of Feral beasts. Ghouls were the unlucky ones, who, long ago, were caught the the nuclear blasts and turned into walking corpses.
"Beer. I need a drink... As cold as you can get it, please." He asked, folding his arms on the bartop. The Ghoul nodded, and turned, heading into a door built over a hole in the wall to fetch him something.

"Raider?" Asked a voice beside him. Arc glanced to the side for a look. A man in his thirties was there, with a brown beard and brown hair. He wore a vest and jeans, and spoke with an old southern accent. "Funny, you look like em, but don't act like it. Where you come from anywho?" Arc sighed, turning to him.
"I am not a raider, sir. I am a wanderer. Just looking for things to do in order to pass from this one life onto the next..." He took a deep breath. "As to where I had come from... A camp. Medical place, I believe. I was taken by raiders at three years old, and never saw my parents again. They raised me, taught me to fight, to survive. At the age of twenty, I had slain the leader, and the entire group, with this sword..." He said, patting the pommel of the weapon on his belt. "It was done so in the middle of the night, in a camp, deep in the middle of the wasteland. After that, I had taken what guns, ammunition, and other supplies such as food and water from the camp, and made my way east, until a caravan had picked me up, and brought me to what was once known as Enfield." The man raised an eyebrow as the Ghoul returned, placing a fogged bottle on the bartop.

"Six caps, please."
"Yes." Arc nodded, producing a bag on his belt, scavenged from the skeleton of a woman far back in another town, and opened it, pulling out the right amount of bottle caps, and placing them on the table. The Ghoul sneered, scooped them up, and ran off into the back.
"As you were saying, sir?" Asked the man politely.

"Yes..." Arc began once more, taking a sip of the cold beer. "From there, the caravan was overrun by mutants. I had escaped because I had taken one of the caravan's mounts, a giant mutant pig, and rode it across the nearby bridge into the town of Suffield. There, I had helped a group of people living in the local Academy by taking out some raiders and mutants, and freeing some prisoners. They allowed me to leave, with caps in-hand. I had gone south, through swamps and bogs and jungles, and then through more desert, until the bus caravan had picked me up, bringing me here. That is my life in a nutshell..." Arc shrugged, taking a long, great swing of his beer.
"The sword... where's it come from?" Asked the man. Arc just stared back at the drink, wrapping his fingers around it.
"The night I had slain my raider masters... I stumbled upon a cave... It was glowing greenly. I had discovered my weapon in there atop a pile of skeletons around a green rock, the sword lodged in atop the rock. I had pulled it free. From there, I had attack the raiders one-bye-one, using machine guns and pistols when I had to..." This seemed to satisfy the man, as he pulled out a cigarette, and nodded to Arc.

"Talk to ya later...?"
"Arc."
"Right then! Arc! Talk to ya later, ol' boy!" He turned, and moved through the crowd to the door. Arc looked back at the Ghoul.
"Anyplace to stay?" He asked.
"One hundred and there is a room with your name on it upstairs. Woman for an extra twenty."
"Hold the woman. I have demons to think of. Too many..." Arc replied, forking over the amount of small metal discs. The Ghoul nodded, smiling as wide as he could.
"Right this way, Mr. Arc!"

Hope there's going to be action soon, and also this was kinda short. It's also a big wall of text, so you should put spaces

like

so.

I noticed, thanks for also noticing heheh. There will be. Patience, my young padawan.

Two

Not far from the city limits, out in the wasteland...

The Enclave scouts shouldered their laser rifles. The commander, with an American flag painted onto his shoulder pad, put his finger to his earpiece. "The target is in the city. Orders?" He said. there was a short pause.
++This is command. We are moving in on your position. You are clear to engage.++ A voice crackled through his ear.

With that, the squad leader was joined by five more soldiers. The five of them crept down the slope towards the city, covered by a blanket of night. The soldiers reached the gate, one of them had set a charge. He flipped a switch on the high-tech explosive device and took cover behind a rock. The gate exploded. The five troopers pounded through the gate, their power armor's servos grinding against one another as they threw the soldiers on towards combat. Once inside, the killing began. Left and right, people were taken down by laser rifles and flamers. Within moments, two vertibirds plowed through the cloudy skies, releasing more troops into the doomed city, and gunning down more people.

It was Hell.

* * *

Arc had awoken with a start. His brow was sweating. Below, he had felt his entire bedroom shake and rumble. Was this an earthquake? He had thought to himself, snagging up his sword and slinging it around him, carrying it on his back as he almost stumbled down the stairway. The ground floor was like walking into the inferno itself. Flames engulfed the dying screams of innocent civilians. Arc saw the Ghoul bartender pinned against the wall, a great spike through his stomach, blood all over the walls, glistening in the heat. The barbarian charged through the flames, breaking out a window and rolling onto the street. He was under an Enclave soldier. He knew what the Enclave was, and had at least one run-in with them in the past, though it was not a direct one. He kicked out, his muscular legs wrapping around the ankles of the soldier above him, pulling him to the ground. The soldier dropped his gun, and the two rolled around in the war-strewn city street for what seemed like hours until Arc had finally snapped the bastard's neck. The warrior stood victorious, picking up the weapon. A laser rifle. he slung it over his shoulder with his sword, and drew his signature weapon, it's green blade glowing in the fires of the city.

He moved down an alleyway, creeping along. Three vertibirds flew overhead, gunning down unseen civilians. Arc moved back onto a large street. Dead bodies lie everywhere. What was this? Why was this occurring here?? He saw the body of the man he had met in the bar, his entrails smoking before him. The barbarian spotted a squad of Enclave soldiers. Gritting his teeth, he charged. The sword was held in both hands, tightly. The first swing had cut down a soldier sideways, his entrails and gore spilling out onto the ground like an egg hitting a rock. Arc ducked the shot of a laser bolt, and rolled, cutting the leg from the knee down off another soldier, a woman. She screamed and fell, grabbing at the gushing stump. Arc curb-stomped her helmeted skull to end her pain. He turned, slicing the chest of another open, letting him fall straight forward. It now began to rain. Arc shouted a loud warcry, tiny droplets of water washing the blood from his bronze muscular skin. It was then when the squad leader smashed the back of his skull, and Arc went reeling forward, landing on his knees.

The last thing he had heard before he had blacked out was "We have the target. Move a vertibird in to pick me up, and have two others ready to escort. Clear us a landing at Raven Rock."