Bard of the Wastes
A story where history is no longer history

Prologue

The sun cracked, dried, and depressing earth; continued to burn under the wasteland sun. There wasn't a cloud in the sky as all around. The now small city of New Orleans, over flowed with traders, merchants, and other assorted wastelanders. The venders on the sides of the roads hollered and shouted out their product or products. People bumping into one another as they made their way through the crowded streets of New Orleans, listening to the different venders and merchants as they shouted.

Greer, a man who had seen many things during his life; and had done a good many more; sat alone at a small table outside a diner. His nicely kept guitar which had been found during his travels on the eastern sea board, rested across his back. The sun baked the ground around Greer as he continued to keep the sun to his back. Children who were all around stared at him, his face covered in shadows by his long brimmed cowboy hat which he had found while scavenging through the Western United States. The children quickly scurried off as he moved into a more comfortable position.

"Hey Greer, where's that old .30-40 Krag you had around here earlier?" A man said from the corner of Greer. The man was obviously a gun for hire, his twin bandoleers and advanced weapons showed that. He also had the look of a man who killed for money, his dark green eyes gave a fierce look of many jobs and successful there too.

"In the back room. Don't touch it, Sam." Greer replied as he took a sip of his Whiskey, and let his weary head slump down between his arms. Sam just smiled and got up, he was sitting with three other men that Greer had never seen before; their faces bold and daring like Sam's.

"Oh I won't touch that thing. I wouldn't want it to crumble in my hands, that would be to sad." Sam said with a sarcastic tone to his voice, trying to get a rise out of Greer. But Greer was more than that, and just shrugged it off; not even giving Sam the time of day. The other mercenaries sitting with Sam smiled and laughed with one another, Greer over hearing them making fun of Sam's failed attempt to get Greer irritated.

"Shut up!" Sam said standing up, and finishing his beer before he stormed off. Greer didn't look, but heard the sound of a bottle smash against a wall as Sam stormed off. The sun was feeling good on Greer, his already tanned skin continued to tan more as Greer rested.

After a few minutes passed, the sound of the three mercenaries getting up made Greer lift up his head. Their rifles were slung across their backs, and their other weapons of death at their sides. The three of them smirked and gave a snarling look at Greer as he sat up and sarcastically waved them goodbye.

"They sure were fun?" Greer mumbled to himself as he stood up from his table, and walked into the diner he and the four mercenaries had been sitting outside of. It was quite, and not very busy. There were only two or three tables taken, and the woman at the counter raised her hand; and smiled a friendly smile to Greer.

"Hey Hon, how's life going? Things still interesting for you." The woman said in a deep Louisiana accent. Greer himself had a small one, but it was mostly a mixture of Georgian, Alabaman, and a hint of Louisianan.

"They're just fine, Abby." Greer said walking behind the counter towards Abby. His arm moving around her waist as he pulled her close, and gave her a quick little kiss. Abby smiled, brushing her dirty blonde hair behind her ears as she looked at Greer's tired brown eyes. The couple was a strange one at that, Abby was usually a happy go lucky person, with not much interest in fighting or violence in general. While Greer was a man of action and at times, violence. The two had met when Greer was traveling through what was once West Texas.

Abby had been a caravan driver, and was leaving for New Orleans when the two met at a Caravan resting place. Since then, Greer and Abby had been together off and on. Sometimes they'd argue, and one of them would storm out of the house that Abby actually owned, just down the road from the diner.

After having a little moment, Greer walked into the back room through a small door which was made of a large piece of sheet metal. It didn't close right, but Greer had rigged up a lock that was secure enough for Abby to keep her beaten safe in the room.

Inside the room, Greer quickly found his .30-40 Krag resting on top of a black footlocker. Abby had obviously put it there, knowing that Greer didn't like his only rifle to be exposed incase someone did get in. He sighed for a moment before looking it over to make sure she hadn't scratched, chipped, or bent anything on it. After a quick moment of looking it over, Greer smiled and quickly checked the chamber, opening the bolt; and pulling it back before pushing it back into place. All this was done in a quick smooth succession of his wrist and hand. It was a good rifle, and Greer had had it since the first year anniversary of his "retirement" from the Brotherhood of Steel, in the Capital Wasteland.

In-fact, Greer had not "retired" from the Brotherhood of Steel that was stationed in the Capital Wasteland; but could be reasonably described more or less, as a deserter. He had left the life of a BOS Paladin, for a life of what it was really, and something new. Greer had not been born into the Brotherhood of Steel, and was in-fact just some wastelander who had the "wit" to join the heavily outnumbered and armed Brotherhood of Steel. After Greer deserted from the Brotherhood of Steel, and returned to his life of a no named wastelander; he began his journey across the wasteland, visiting different settlements and cities before finally returning to his home city of Mobile, Alabama. Once he had taken to becoming a traveling guitarist; and small time gun for hire. Greer moved on, and eventually made his way to Texas, where he took many jobs as a gun for hire.

Since then, Greer had lived many different experiences and events. Some good, and some bad. But neither good or bad mattered to Greer who just wanted to live a quite life; and play his guitar.
___________________________________________

So tell me what you all think? I'm very interested, and anything you say as negative cannot and will not put me down. So say what you like, be honest! I'm still determined to write this, and with the help of "Dr. Strangelove", I think I've done a good job.

Yes, very nice work, I can tell you've had experience outside of these forums.

On a quick run through, I noticed your dialogue endings are off. "When you have dialogue that ends in a statement, you put a comma, not a period," I said. See what I mean? Other than that, I didn't notice any outstanding problems. Nice job.

Thanks for mentioning that. I thought "Dr. Strangelove" and I had caught all of them, or at least most of them. Guess not. Thanks.

Marvelous work, ill be checking in on this one periodically.

Yeah, I wont say anything. As you (Fallout Hero) already know what I think, and stuff. Anyway, glad you guys like my little cousins story. He's a good little kid. Doesn't cause trouble, though he can. LOL Anyway, we'll be sharing my computer for the week as his is out. So if you don't see me, he's probably on; and vise versa.

I think you're a bit lost Ambrose hmm? The TES fff is down there.

I saw a few points of redundancy, but other than that I enjoyed the read. Continue...

Hm, nice to see the younger? generation take up the Keyboard, it is, after all, stronger than a sword.

He's around your guys age. Like 16,17, or 18?

I could say the same to you, Lord Dren. Even if your avatar is all Falloutey now.



What kind of swords do you have? The ones I own could cut through a keyboard no problem.

I'm ususally not one for reading fan fics, but i decided to check this out. I really enjoyed this. I can't wait to see what will happen next. Looking forward to more.

Thank you Naz. Glad you enjoyed it. Hopefully the rest will be enjoyable to you as well. Speaking of which, me and "Dr. Strangelove" are making the finishing touches on Chapter 1 which should be up tomorrow sometime in the morning, or noon? Hope others are reading this, and enjoying it. :read:

Well, I'm reading, I quite like this story, Its got a nice...Southern flair to it, like hogs to mud.

Before you read this, the people mentioned in this story are actual people that I know and are good friends with. Granted they are not as they look in the story, but probably actually worse. lol. It's a joke, so don't take offense for them. Anyway, enjoy the story and I hope you all continue to read and enjoy it. Also, this chapter is just introducing some more supporting characters, that Greer knows.


Chapter I

After leaving the diner, and walking through the crowded streets of New Orleans; Greer made his way down to the French Quarter. It was no longer what it once was before the bombs fell, and nowadays the buildings were falling apart faster than the repair men could repair them. The old lead paint chipped away from the wood, and pieces of rotting wood hung down from walkways which had caution signs where the boards were breaking and hanging. The whole French Quater had an eerie feel to it; probably because of the tribal priests and priestesses that inhabited the area with their followers. Small little skulls of people, dogs and other creatures alike decorated the tribal buildings.


Greer looked around him, the French Quarter was full of venders and tribals trading things. His .30-40 Krag rested at Greer’s side while he silently walked down the street. The well kept guitar rested on his back, and the old bridge bumped against his hat every so often as he looked up to see around him. Suddenly, a woman’s voice came from across the street. She shouted towards Greer, her voice was a thick Louisiana accent, mixed with something else which Greer did not know. Her skin was a dark brown, and she had long dreaded hair with sticks and bones of little creatures keeping it up.

“Come over here you crazy idiot!” The woman shouted at Greer. “Don’t you ignore me Mr. Greer, I’ll have the spirits do more to you; like last time!” The woman said with an eerie cackle. Greer walked over, his face woken up by her eerie cackle of a laugh.

“Yes, Miss Dow. What are the ‘spirits’ saying this day?” Greer said with a sarcastic voice. He and Miss Dow had met one another while Greer was traveling through some of the harshest places in Louisiana. She had saved him more than once, when he took long trips out into the swamps and usually became either lost or was attacked by a group of swamp ghouls; or as Miss Dow called them, “Swamp Devils.”

The two walked inside, and entered her large parlor room. Miss Dow had taken the building for herself, and for those who followed her teachings. The parlor room was dimly lit as Miss Dow walked behind her bar counter, and began pouring a drink into two small glasses. All around them, faces of Miss Dow’s followers were lit by the dimly lit room. They all had paint and tattoo’s on their faces, but their bodies were in the shadows; only visible were their bodies silhouettes and outlines.

“So where is Mr. Greer be off to, today?” Miss Dow said turning to Greer, and handing him a drink. At first he didn’t even bother reaching at the drink, the last time Miss Dow had given him something. Greer had blacked out, and found himself the next day; or what he thought to be the next day, running through the swamps with several “Swamp Devils” chasing after him. After a moment of persistence from Miss Dow, Greer accepted but first smelt the drink to see what it was. He quickly identified it as a whiskey, which put a small smile on his face and the two took a swig together. The followers were eerily quiet for Greer, Miss Dow payed no attention to her silent followers; knowing they wouldn’t do anything besides watch Greer and her converse. But none the less, Greer had a bad feeling about them. His experiences with Voodoo followers was not a good one, the only voodoo priestess that was good to him was in fact Miss Dow; who was at times very hostile and mean to him.

The two of them took a seat at the only table in the parlor, Greer placing his guitar beside him, against the chair. He quickly noticed the pentagram which was carved into the old birch wood table. Miss Dow took another sip of her whiskey, which was quite full; almost reaching the brim of the glass. Greer had not been given so much, Miss Dow knowing that he was selfish when given to much.

“So what is Mr. Greer doing today?” Miss Dow said again looking at Greer with a eerie stare.

“I was thinking of taking a trip through the delta? Maybe ‘Old Man Willus’ will have some new stuff to trade?” Greer said knowing that Miss Dow and ‘Old Man Willus’ did not have a friendly relationship. Both were voodoo followers, but when brought together; or just running into one another, it was a fight. Usually neither side won; Miss Dow and ‘Old Man Willus’ both performing ‘spells’ to beat the others.

Greer realized the face Miss Dow gave, her face was annoyed and irritated by the name. She quickly took a long gulp, Greer’s eyes shooting wide as he watched her down almost the whole glass. She rested the glass down on the table, her teeth a dirty yellow as she sneered at her followers who all quickly took a small leap back.

“Don’t bring him around the French Quarter, you hear me Mr. Greer. We don’t want another happening like the last time.” Miss Dow said flicking her hand in front of her face, and giving him a “no” expression. Greer smiled and took another swig of his whiskey, he shook his head with a smile. The last time the two had met, there was actually a small war in the streets of the French Quarter. Greer had not heard about the “war” until it was already almost over, but had quickly made his way down to see what all the commotion was.

It had seemed, that ‘Old Man Willus’ had brought a few of his followers along with him as protection; when he came into town to trade some goods with the merchants and vendors. But while doing so, had taken a wrong turn somewhere and he along with his followers were ambushed by Miss Dow’s followers. The “war” had lasted about a day, small fights happening here and there ever or so hour, until Greer had arrived on scene and cleared the mess up. Since then, Miss Dow had promised to keep her followers in her little territory; and ‘Old Man Willus’ would stay out in the swamps, and only trade with Greer who would bring the goods into New Orleans, and trade them for the old voodoo priest.

After conversing and talking about life, and voodoo spirits; which Miss Dow usually led to in her conversations. Greer got up, and finished his second glass of whiskey. He grabbed his guitar, and slung it around his back while his Krag rested at his side in his hand. Miss Dow smiled at him, her yellow teeth shimmering in the dim light. The followers were still in their shadows, but Greer payed little attention to them as Miss Dow followed him out of the parlor, and led him to the door.

“Well I’ll be sure to tell ‘Old Man Willus’ you said hello, Miss Dow.” Greer said stepping away from the beaten porch, and tipping his hat to her. She quickly gritted her teeth and flicked her hand in front of her face, motioning for him to leave. He smiled, and turned towards the swamp, giving a quick wave to Miss Dow as she closed her door and Greer went on his way.

The streets were clearer now, and not so many people were around the merchant or vendor sites. But then again, the sun had started to dip along the horizon, and Greer knew that not many people liked being in the French Quarter during the night when the voodoo priests and priestesses began their nightly rituals. Greer didn’t mind them, and silently walked down one of the many streets in the French Quarter, listening to his own footsteps as he started off towards ‘Old Man Willus’ who lived a quiet life in the swamps.

Very nice, I loved the whole Voodoo stuff, I'm looking to see more of this. :tops:

Thanks Shadow. Glad your liking it, which as a writer is all I can ask for.

After battling myself for how to go about Chapter 2, I think I finally got it.


Chapter II

After walking for hours through the empty swamps, that surrounded New Orleans. Greer finally made his way to "Old Man Willus'" house. It was a large white building, which stood up on large wooden poles, which the poles themselves did not look to sturdy anymore. The white paint which had once covered the house, was now chipped and old rotted wood was now exposed to the elements.

Voices suddenly came all around Greer as he moved through the swamp, they were human. Greer could tell that, but they weren't speaking any sense. He knew they were followers of "Old Man Willus", and were keeping a keen eye on what Greer was doing.

"Hey Willus! You around?" Greer shouted, looking around the blackened windows that showed no signs of life inside. More of the voices echoed as Greer walked up to the porch of the house, and knocked on the door. "Willus it's me, Greer. I just came to check on you."

"Come on in kid," an old and gruff voice said. "Don't worry about the others, they won't bite...much." The voice said with a bit of sarcasm which Greer always got.

"Thanks for the comfort," Greer said as he stepped into the main room, closing the door behind him. "Old Man Willus" stood in the center of the main room, his teeth were now replaced with wood and other pieces of junk that he had found, and used for teeth. His face was old and wrinkly, and he walked with a limp.

"How are you today, Willus?" Greer asked pushing his long coat back around his legs, revealing a pistol, which hung against his hip. Willus smiled, and limped over to Greer, his makeshift cane tapping against the hardwood floors.

"You went to see that disgrace of a woman, Miss Dow. Didn't you?" Willus said taking a couple of sniffs around Greer.

"Yeah, but don't worry about her. Your so paranoid Willus, learn to take a break and just enjoy your seclusion." Greer said walking into the family room; and sitting in a large beaten red chair. Its cushions were old, and were no longer very comfortable. But it didn't bother Greer much. Willus followed, and took a seat in the chair across from Greer, it too was big and red.

"I just don't want her around these parts. This is my land, and my people live here, you understand right?"

"Sure." Greer replied shrugging and leaning forward in the chair. All around the two, skulls and other voodoo trinkets hung along the walls, and rested on the mantels. The room was completely empty of any life beside Greer and "Old Man Willus" who sat looking at each other for a moment.

"So, do you have anything you want me to take back? I've got nothing going on today, and thought I'd come see if you needed something, or wanted something sent." Greer finally said.

"I dunno, nothing really to trade today." Willus said looking around, and pointing at things with his cane. "But if you do go back to town, could you get that old bat woman, Miss Dow off my ass?"

Greer looked at Willus, smiling and nodding as he asked for the favor. It wasn't in Greer to get between the two, unless they were causing trouble for the town; like they had before. Willus smiled, and then grabbed a little piece of what looked like Brahmin jerky before taking a large bite into it.

"You know she sent five of her goons here, last night. They were a hunting party, or maybe even here to gather some information on me." Willus stated with his hands pointed out towards New Orleans. "Luckily my followers, killed them and sent the last one running. Dunno if he survived, he was pretty banged up." Willus said with a bit of a sinister smile.

Greer didn't like hearing the problems, or events that took place between the two; and stood up from the chair, giving Willus an irritated look, which didn't seem to phase Willus at all. But before he continued, Greer walked over to the door and looked back at Willus, still with that irritated look.

"I don't care about your two fighting. As long as you keep it away from the town; and don't get anyone else involved. Or even destroy the town like you did last time, I don't care if you both kill each other. Understand?" Greer said with a bit of a fed-up voice. Willus smiled and nodded, which Greer didn't like but knew he couldn't do anything about Willus' stubbornness.

"Sure, whatever you say kid. But when I do die, don't expect much from my estate." Willus said with a huge laugh.

Suddenly, the sound of howling and cries echoed through to Greer and Willus. Both suddenly had a face of shock, and confusion as they hurried over to the window. More and more howling along with cries echoed. Then the sound of several rifles echoed, and Greer suddenly had a feeling like his stomach had just twisted several hundred times.

"I told you, that woman was trying to kill me!" Willus said limping quickly over to the front door. Greer quickly grabbed his .30-40 Krag from off his shoulder, and checked it for a readied round. Luckily for Greer, he had gotten away from the door before hand. As when Willus reached to lock it, the door blasted open and the sudden sound of a shotgun blast, threw Willus backwards towards the ground.

Blood misted from Willus' chest, and his eyes went to a plain white as they rolled back into his head. Greer quickly pushed the bolt forward on his Krag, and readied himself as a tribal carrying an old shotgun, came through the door. Greer fired a shot, which landed in the man's ribs. Quickly, Greer opened the bolt and ejected the old cartridge as a new one lifted into place, and was pushed into the barrel by the bolt.

Another tribal, this time the tribal looked like a woman; entered from the door carrying a bat which had an old sword blade attached to one side. The woman screamed as she spotted Greer, and charged. Without much hesitation, Greer fired another round. This one entering the woman's head and splattering parts of grey matter and blood against the wall. More cries, howls, and gunfire echoed as Greer hurried over to close the door. He quickly put the lock on, which wasn't much but it would have to do.

Greer looked back at Willus who was laying there on the floor, in a pool of blood. His entire body seemed to have been ravaged by the single shotgun blast, but most of it was centered around his bloody and ravaged chest.

"I'm so sorry, Willus." Greer said without much time to do anything but hurry up the stairs as hands and weapons began pounding against the door. The whole scene, seemed like something out of an old zombie movie, Greer had seen when he was in what used to be Alabama. The survivors living in the house, while the zombies pounded against the door. But Greer didn't have much time to contemplate on the event, as the sound of the door cracking, echoed up the steps.

Greer quickly looked around for a place to see what was happening, along with somewhere he could hold out for the time and collect himself. The third room on the top floor, which was an old bedroom was a good place. But Greer figured it would be to easy for them to break in. The continuous sound of the door cracking, was silenced by the sound of the lock being blasted by a gun; most likely another shotgun. Greer didn't have time, and quickly shot for the third room bedroom. He closed the door, and locked it.

Looking around, he found a large tall dresser beside the door, and pushed it in front of the door. It wasn't much, but it would give him enough time to prepare for what he figured to be his end. Down the stairs, Greer could hear the sound of tribals rushing through the house and rooms below. The sound of plates crashing, and stuff being torn down put Greer on edge even more as he unholstered his pistol, and laid it on the footlocker that was at the foot of the bed.

"[censored], this isn't good." Greer muttered to himself as he smirked at the obviously stupid observation. "Who are they?" Greer muttered to himself again, at the same time wondering why he was starting to talk to himself. He figured that it comforted him in some way, and didn't stop as he asked himself again who they were. The paint that they wore didn't seem like anything he had seen before, but then again. Greer had only one person he could think of, that wanted Willus dead; and that was Miss Dow.

The cries, howling, and gunfire stopped after a moment; and Greer quickly rushed over to the single window in the room which overlooked the front of the estate. There were bodies of tribals and voodoo followers everywhere. But there was no movement that Greer could spot, outside. The sound of the tribals below him, were all that he could hear. Some of them made their way up the stairs, but didn't bother it seemed to come near the door.

Greer thought to himself, that it was time for him to make a break for it. He looked at the door, and then listened quietly below him at the crashing and smashing of things. The tribals were all speaking a dialect, Greer could not understand. But whatever it was they were talking to each other about, it didn't sound good for Greer, or Willus who Greer figured was still laying there dead on the floor.

When the sudden sound of what sounded like a table being over turned, echoed. Greer quickly opened the window which squealed a bit; but not loud enough for the tribals below to hear. Greer took a deep breath, and stepped out onto the part of the roof, looking around once more to make sure things were o.k.

Before he jumped, the sound of the door behind him, in the room began to thump as some tribals began beating against the door. The dresser that was placed in front of the door, rocked a bit as they pounded harder. Greer began to shake a bit with fear, but had no where else to go. He quickly jumped from the roof, towards a patch of bushes and other foliage that was dead; landing right in the middle of the large dead bushes. His body made a thump, and luckily didn't attract any attention from the tribals as he got up, and check himself over. Realizing that he had forgotten his pistol inside the room on the footlocker. Greer cursed himself at the fact, but the fact of wanting to live over shadowed the mistake, and before he knew it. He was running back towards New Orleans, with only his .30-40 Krag, and knife as protection.