The year is 2282. Five years ago, the Lone Wanderer from Vault 101 emerged from the safety of the Vault to enter the hellish wasteland in search of his lost father: James. In the process of searching for him, he became involved with the Brotherhood of Steel, explored the wasteland, and finished the work of his father to bring the waters of life to the wasteland. In the midst of this, war broke out between the mysterious Enclave and the Brotherhood over control of the purifier. In the process of combating the Enclave threat, the Brotherhood of Steel managed to defeat them at Project Purity, and then took the offensive with the massive Liberty Prime robot. After defeating the Enclave at Adams Air Force Base and capturing it for themselves, the Brotherhood besieged Raven Rock, but after a lengthy battle which ended with Liberty Prime destroyed, they found themselves unable to breach Raven Rock's doors. Not wanting to engage in a lengthy siege, Lyons ordered his men to pull back, leaving the Enclave to lick their wounds deep within the almost impenetrable safety of Raven Rock.

With this done, the Lone Wanderer departed the Capital Wastes for other lands in the company of his friend Fawkes. In his absence, and with the Enclave threat neutralized, the various factions of the wasteland now begin to come into their own. A town lead by the self-proclaimed President Grant has risen in the ruins of Old Olney, the Brotherhood of Steel remains a powerful force in the downtown D.C. area, and rumors of scientists and advanced robots from the north circulate as bar gossip. Some factions such as the Regulators seek to protect and civilize the wastes, others to destabilize it, and some, like the mercenaries of Talon Company, simply look to make a profit. Even with the rise of these new factions, raiders and super-mutants remain a very real threat in the region, causing chaos and death wherever they are encountered.

Far to the south in Point Lookout, the town of Pilgrim's Landing has grown up on the old boardwalk, becoming a port town of some significance controlled by the Blackhall family. With the Blackhall's efforts at creating a sense of civilization here, some groups from the Capital Wasteland have set up outposts in Point Lookout. Despite this however, the Swamps remain a dark and foreboding place. Untamed, and fiercely protected by the Swamp Folk.

How these factions will make their mark on the wasteland, and what lies in store for the Capital Wasteland, are questions only time will answer.

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Current OOC/Sign-up Thread: http://www.gamesas.com/topic/1506899-new-capital-wasteland-roleplay-interest-check/

Paradise Falls

"Indeed. It was President Westford and, to a lesser extent, Grant who would liberate slaves by your conveys too close to our walls. As for this offer, what's in this is your lives, your money and order in this region. Mr. Dillane has told me personally that Olney has agreed to leaving your men unmolested provided they keep all slaving convoys out of Olney territory. In return for this respect for your boundaries, we will not pass through your territory without advanced notice so no misunderstandings arise. Secondly, Olney is willing to offer your people aid should it be called upon. Should an hour of invasion arise, give Olney the plea and we will come. Thirdly, there is the possibility of trading electricity to Paradise from a power plant we have purged of feral ghouls. However, if you'd like electricity, aside from caps, Olney requests you up the living conditions of your slaves. Instead of dirt floor pens like dogs, they will sleep in bunk beds provided by Olney if you agree. They will be taught basic academics to further their use as more than labour. Also a service we will provide. All in all, it's a fair condition since you are expected to spend little from this. In return, we get order and stability in the region. Despite our ideaological differences, it is hard to deny your people keep peace, however harshly, in your territory. What do you say, Mr. Jones?"

Eulogy scowled, as the man offered barely anything of interest. But then cracked a smile, a wicked grin. "Other than not having to worry about pot shots coming from your men, there's nothing of interest to me. But there is something. Come let's talk in my office, we'll be a while."

The door to the cinema opened wide, as Eulogy led the men into his office. "Have a seat." As he picked up a lighter laying on his desk and pulled a cigarette from his briast pocket. A flame burned the end, as he sat down, a trail of smoke rising into the air.

"Now. Look around you, I'm the richest man in the entire Wasteland as far as the eye can see. I don't need educated slaves, or those in better living conditions. I just need them to break, so they'll be more obedient. Say what you will, but from their point of view this is heaven compared to what some of my buyers have in mind. You see, the Pitt takes nearly all our slaves, buys them in bulk. It don't matter if they can read or write nor do I care. And with Lord Squab of the Pitt setting up a barracks in Paradise Falls, you'd have to be psycho to attack this place, anyone would."

Taking a long draw from his cig, he paused.

"So then, there is something you can do for me, to get this negotiation to work. I'll need a map of Olney's territory, gotta need to see what land I lose before I agree. There is another thing though. I hear you boys are trying to squash the raiders up north. Instead of killing them off. Run them my way. Don't think of it as slavery. No. Think of it as community service. All they've done is kill and violate any wastelanders for decades. Well we got some plans for them here. You know what a rail-road is right. Don't answer that, of course you do. Well we got plans see! The Pitt and us. We think it's time for an industrial era. For transit. And those raiders will go a long way in building that up. Now.. What do you say?" Eulogy sat back, cigarette in his lips with a smug smile on his face.

The Wasteland – near Megaton


“This is it, Scribe Bigsley”, the Deputy said politely as he gestured at the shack. A dead Raider could be seen next to the door, still sitting in the chair he had died in. “There were near half a dozen of them…mind the smell.”

“Thank you, Deputy”, Bigsley said as he pulled out a filter mask and prepared to put it on as he walked towards the shack while the fire Team of Knights fanned out to secure the area. . Bigsley was slightly annoyed, he had just began his search of the Pre-War Pentagon files…the look on Jameson’s face when he had shown her the letter from Lyons giving him total access was priceless…when Lyons had sent someone to pack him on a Vertibird to Megaton to look into rumors of Enclave activity there. He kept his annoyance to himself, though….the goodwill his work in Point Lookout had generated had given him one more chance to amount to something in the Brotherhood, and he wasn’t going to blow it this time.

The first corpse was outside, an individual still sitting in a battered kitchen table chair. A beam had entered the top of his skull and bored through the base of his skull and then the corrugated metal of the shack. Three other beams had gone through his body, and another had bored a hole through the wooden stock of the rusty hunting rifle propped up against the wall of the shack next to him. To Bigsley it looked as if he had been sleeping when the unknown assailants opened fire.

“Sleepin’ on watch…tsk, tsk, tsk”, chided a voice next to Bigsley. “Probably never saw it coming.”

Bigsley turned his head to look at the man. He was a tall, wiry man in his mid-thirties with three days growth on his chin and grey eyes as hard as flint. His calf-length leather duster marked him as a Regulator, underneath the duster he was wearing a dark blue ballistic vest with a patch saying “CAPITOL POLICE” in inch high white letters sewn into it. At his right hip was a holstered revolver, a second revolver was in a cross-draw holster secured to the webgear over his vest. Peeking out of his right boot was the handle of a knife. Across his chest, in a single point sling, was a AER-9 Laser rifle, with a scope mounted.

“Are you sure it wasn’t some of your comrades, Kincaid?”, Bigsley asked. “there aren’t many people out here using energy weapons.”

“It wasn’t us, Brother Harold”, Kincaid replied conversationally as he grabbed the body’s right arm and held the hand up for Bigsley to see that it had all five fingers. “If Regulators had done this, his finger would have been taken. We get a bounty, sure…but the real point is to make sure that everyone knows who did the deed.” As he let go of the arm , he added, “Like the Brotherhood, we don’t pass the blame for what we do onto others.”

The Deputy then showed them the outside wall, where the familiar thirteen stars around a letter E had been neatly spray-painted. Bigsley examined it closely, then stepped away.

“They took their time to do a neat job of it”, Bigsley observed, “By the look of it they even brought stencils for the stars and the E, and you can see where they used some sort of template to mark where the stars went. Whether they were really Enclave or not, they took what they were doing seriously." Bigsley shuddered a bit in dread, then continued. “No delaying any further…let’s go in and examine their handiwork.”

They went inside. As the Deputy had said, the stench was awful. In a heap in one corner were five bodies, a couple of which had been turned into ash. Scattered about were Jet inhalors, Psycho canisters, and Med-X syringes as well as empty beer and whisky bottles. Kincaid picked up a Jet inhaler and squeezed it, it was empty. If the clothes piled up near the mattresses and the filth and tattoos on the bodies weren’t enough to mark the dead as Raiders, the grafitti on the walls and the grilled human arm above the burnt out cooking fire made it plain. Kincaid looked at the Raider outfits, prodding at them with a stick he picked up, and then studied the graffiti spray-painted on the wall.

“They were Raiders all right”, Kincaid said, “By the ‘tags’, they were a set of the Cobalt Rain gang.” Kincaid rubbed his chin thoughtfully then continued. “Nasty [censored]ers…haven’t seen them around here since we kicked them out of Laurel two years ago…last word we had was they staked out some turf in Ellicott City. It worries me a little they have come West again.” He spat tobacco juice into a cracked water glass he found on the ground in the shack then continued. “Whoever did this knew their business…these losers didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell. The fire seemed to be all coming from one direction, the front. If’n we can find their firing point maybe there will be a clue.”

They left the shack and began looking around. While Kincaid took several men and began to search the area in front of the shack, Bigsley examined the area around it. Near a side window, he found a single footprint that had been undisturbed. It was clearly made by a power armor boot. Bigsley took a picture then summoned one of his armored companions…wearing the standard issue T-47d…to make a footprint next to it and when he saw it didn’t match the photographed them both together. After a bit, Kincaid called out to him from a point about a hundred feet in front of the shack. Bigsley went out to him.

“Can’t tell how many there were exactly”, Kincaid said as he searched around, “They spent a lot of time moving about here. I’m guessing there were 2-3. It also looks like they policed their spent cells after it was over. These people weren’t amateurs….mebbe it was Talon Company.”

“Found a bootprint that appears to have come from power armor of some kind near the shack”, Bigsley replied. “While Talon Company is better armed than most…they don’t have that, Thank Steel.”

Bigsley joined the search, and eventually found a single spent Electron Charge Pack, that likely had escaped notice because it been pressed into the ground by something heavy, probably the boot of one of the assailants. It was Pre-War, though that didn’t mean much as even after two centuries massive stockpiles of Pre-War ammunition were still being found. He showed it to Kincaid.

“Only two weapons use these”, Bigsley said, “And the effects don’t match a Tesla Cannon.”

“Gatling laser”, Kincaid replied. “Folks with Power Armor and Gatling Lasers? It’s the Enclave alright…has to be.”

“Exactly”, Bigsley agreed grimly. “Question is…what are they aiming to do?”

Dallas Miles- Paradise Falls

Dallas frowned at the request for a map of territory from Eulogy, "I'm afraid that's quite impossible. We're undergoing quite the shift in borders as we make a real push to stabilise the northern wastes. Our plan is now to push forward to Fort Constantine to secure more equipment. But the stretch of Pre-War SatCom sites we only have plans to leave purged of hostile forces. The Mayor has the idea we share that patch of land as 'neutral', in return, we will not attack your people and nor your ours. Live and let live for the greater good. War is a costly business, as I am sure you know all to well. We end the disgruntled relations of the past for a more cordial one of mutual respect for our rights to exist. In return, we will push the raiders who don't yield to conscription and get away down south. What happens to them when they edge near Paradise Falls, we're not responsible for the fates of your personnel or those raiders." When Dallas took a drink of a bottle of water, he continued on. "As for this 'railroad'. What are you on about? There's tracks that dot the north, true enough. But there's no working trains around these parts. What do you plan to do? I mean, the amount of effort you'll need to place is monumental."

Paradise Falls

"That will complicate things. I'm going to need to know what land is yours, can't move about if we have to worry of whose land we're on. But as far as the rail-road is concerned. We certainly are decades behind any working trains. But those rail carts move freight faster than any brahmin, and safer than any caravan. With all the pre-war trains about it'll be easy to make as many as we need. And with as many slaves as we can grab we can lay tracks from the Pitt to the Falls, and once that proves profitable, tracks from the Falls to any major settlement who allows it. Think of it. Sure it's work, and yeah it severs mainly us slavers. But are you really fine with living in this decayed wasteland where the only technological advances have been purified water."

(OOC Short I know.)