A Story of the Commonwealth

Her hands were cold in his. Small cold little things. He bent down and blew on them, then rubbed some of the cold out of them. It was going to be difficult now, as the cold set in. By his figuring it was mid-September, this cold was just a prelude to the winter to come. These scattered forests, full of misshapen trees barren of leaves, they would not offer much shelter nor block the cold winds when they came. They'd need to find something better. South would be better, always warmer down South for whatever reason, but it was dangerous to go that way.

Were he alone he might just accept that danger and go. In these wastelands you could die at any time from just about anything, but she couldn't be left alone out in this world, not again. She pulled her hands back, the little girl, stuffed them in her jacket pockets and tucked her body in. Such a skinny thing, she didn't have the warming layer of fat that Buford had. They'd not been together long, so it was not particularly graceful when he opened his jacket and picked her up. Her arms around his sides, her legs around his waist, head tucked into the warmth of his chest. He slung her bag over his shoulder and held her tight.

He tucked his head against his shoulder and whispered to her, "It's not much further now kiddo."

When they arrived they found the small town empty. Several of the houses had collapsed in on themselves, a few of them had gaping holes in their walls, and one of them had a Mr. Handy hovering just outside it's door. Could be trouble. He picked a house at the end of the cul de sac and set Emily up in there.

Exhausted from carrying the child and her bags in addition to his own he was greatful for a moments rest, but once he caught his breath he knew he had to see whether the robot was friend or foe.

"Listen kiddo, you stay here," he whispered as he unrolled both of their sleeping bags in the living room, "I'm going to go say hi to our neighbor, and when I get back we'll warm up some water and clean this place up a bit ok?"

She didn't respond. Hadn't really said much since he picked her up a few months back. The silence would pass, he hoped. He hoped it would pass soon.

Pulling his jacket up he walked down the street, stepping over fallen trees and giving the occasional fallen street lamp a wide berth. No point in trying to sneak up on the thing he figured. He was pretty good at laying low, and running for his life when it came to it, but the robot would have to be dealt with one way or the other and he wasn't much of a shooter.

"Good day sir," the machine called to him as he drew closer.

"Good day," he replied, relieved to have been greeted with kind words rather than a twirling saw arm thing.

"Nice neighborhood you got here."

The robot's tone seemed to pick up, Buford wasn't sure if robots could really experience excitement but it sure seemed to be the case.

"Ahh yes sir, Sanctuary is an oasis in these troubled times. You have good taste sir. What a delight. You see I've been alone here ever so long. I'm waiting her for the Mister and the Misses and the young man of the house Mr. Shaun. I'm certain they'll have you in for coffee when they get back. You're new in the neighborhood yes?"

After a short conversation, the Mr. Handy introducing himself as Codsworth, Buford returned to the small home he had staked out. As he began to clear trash from the home Codsworth approached and met Emily, though he stayed just long enough to introduce himself.
"Ah, hello dear child. My name is Codsworth, I live just over there you see. We simply must have you over for a spot of coffee when the Mister and the Misses return. They're quite good with children and I'm not half bad myself."

Buford was relieved when that brought a smile, no matter how small or fleeting, to Emily's face. Smiles were going to be hard to come by for her. As she headed back to the bedroom to clear out the remains of the bed Codsworth shared a last word with him before returning to the house he stood guard over.

"I do appreciate a bit of Spring Cleaning sir. The state of this house, why I'd put in a word with the Housing Office but they seem to have forgotten to pay their phone bill. Good day sir, and welcome to the neighborhood."

As the machine, Codsworth, scooted away Buford got back to work. It would be a busy day, there was no shortage of trash to dispose off, leaves to sweep, and plenty of unidentifiable filth he needed to scrub away. It wouldn't be easy, but by the time he went to sleep that night he would have a half way decent shelter and they would be about as safe as they could hope for. This wasteland, it was a dangerous place, but already Sanctuary was beginning to feel like home.

Just somewhere outside of Sanctuary Hills

The air was brisk and seemed to be getting colder as two figures made their way towards their intended destination. They'd seen what looked like the remains of a small town a few miles back from the vantage point of one of the many hilltops in the area. It had appeared abandoned, but there looked to be some still intact houses, which hopefully meant there would be a place to at least stay the night. Four walls to block the wind and maybe even a mattress would be heaven compared to how they'd been sleeping for the past few days.

Robert clutched his brown farmhand jacket tightly as he heaved up the dead carcass of the molerat Dorthy had shot earlier, while in the other hand he carried his trusty toolbox. Once they managed to find a place to rest for the night, they'd planned on building a fire and cooking the molerat up. Not exactly gourmet eats, in fact it was pretty far from it, but it would do in a pinch. And Dorthy had a way of cooking molerat meat which almost made it seem tasty.

Dorthy squinted up ahead as they rounded another small hill. Her red hair and tattered skirt being gently blown by the wind as she stood with her hunting rifle slung over her shoulder,

"I think I can see someone there," she remarked to her husband.

"Raiders?" Robert asked anxiously.

"Doesn't look like it hun. Just a guy maybe and a little kid I think. But its kind of hard to tell."

"Well we'll have to risk it," Robert replied, "Ain't seen a better spot for miles, and I don't fancy setting up camp out exposed in the open. If its two of them I think we'll be fine."

Dorthy frowned, and loaded her rifle with a few rounds, just in case. Hoping that she wouldn't actually have to use it. Robert did the same, briefly setting down his toolbox, then pulling out his pipe revolver to check if it was loaded, before tucking it back underneath his waistband, and concealing it with his coat.

Cautiously, the pair approached.

--------------------------------------------------

As they got closer, their fears subsided when it became clear that the two figures were definitely not raiders. A dad and his daughter probably, with what looked to be an old Mr. Handy. Hardly threatening and certainly not hostile looking. With the threat of a raider ambush a bit lessened in their minds, their attention turned to finding a suitable shelter.

They passed by a few collapsed ones, before Dorthy poked her head in the windows of one house in particular,

"Looks a bit nicer than the rest," She remarked, "Almost like someone's being trying to clean the floors or something. Kinda weird."

Robert walked inside, peering around the abandoned house, "Well it looks okay babe. I don't see nothin' out of the ordinary really. Good sturdy walls and a solid floor. Yeah, this'll do."

He slung the molerat carcass down along with his toolbox and set to work cleaning out some of the larger pieces of debris out of what he assumed was the bedroom, hoping to clear a suitable place for them to sleep tonight,

"I'll go try and gather a few pieces of wood for a fire and maybe try and see what else we can use outside. I saw some rummage lying around out back," Dorthy remarked as she watched her husband work, "You okay in here?"

"Yeah I reckon I'll be fine dear, go ahead," Robert replied, giving his wife a small smile "Just be careful. Take your rifle though. Those people over there seem okay, but you never know. God knows what sort of [censored] is in The Commonwealth."

"I'm sure I can handle myself," Dorthy chuckled as she stepped out the door. She let her rifle hang by the strap on her shoulder as she proceeded to overturn some pieces of refuse looking for anything that they might be able to use. As she did so, she stopped briefly and turned to look around, keen on keeping a watchful eye on her surroundings,

"Maybe we can stay here for more than a night," she said quietly to herself, marveling at the relative beauty of the surroundings, "It would be so nice to stay awhile without having to pack up and leave. Maybe even to find a home."

She let out a sigh, and continued searching.

Shawn Crowell

North of Sanctuary Hills

The sky was clear, the air was chilly, and the sun was beating down on the earth below. Days like this some would say are a true beauty when you stop and take it all in, Shawn Crowell was not one of these people. Shawn had his head to the ground dragging his feet in the mostly wet leaves that sat still upon the ground. Shawn wiped his eyes looking up to see what was in front of him. The scenery seemed to never changed for him no matter how bright the days were or how cold the air seemed. Dead tree's, abandoned homes, burnt down towns, it all looked the same. Shawn reached behind him into his backpack that was thrown over his back. He pulled out the last bottle of water that was lying at the bottom of his bag. Shawn took a swig of the cool water and stopped in his tracks. "So this is the Commonwealth?!?!" he said to himself

Shawn traveled down a dirt path with the bottle still in his hand and his hand in his other pocket. He kept dragging his feet a bit and looked up into the sky looking towards the sun, Must be some time in the afternoon, better find a town to stay in tonight. he thought to himself. "You must be lost!" a voice shouted from behind a tree.

Shawn stopped and saw as a man appeared from behind a tree about ten feet or so in front of him. Shawn didn't say anything he just stared at the man as he stepped out, his pistol was lowered at his side. "I'm not going to ask are you lost kid?"

Shawn studied the guy, he was wearing what appeared to be raider clothing, Shawn gave off a small chuckle, "No i'm not lost, I know exactly where I'm going."

The man used his finger to turn off the safety of his gun, "Oh yeah and what way is that kid?"

Shawn pointed ahead of him, "That direction, and if that means getting past you, so be it."

Another man was approaching from behind Shawn, the only way Shawn was able to hear him was from the leaves beneath his feet moving around. Shawn turned his head to see another man only this one was carrying a machete, he spoke loudly, "Sounds like we got a smart-ass over here. How about we kill you and the only direction you'll travel is down to hell."

Shawn turned back to the other guy who now seemed to be standing right in front of Shawn with his gun pointed right between Shawn's eyes. Shawn took a deep breath but still kept a straight face, he spoke softly, "I'm just trying to find a town, if you want to play this game it will end badly for you. walk away now otherwise I can't be held responsible for what may happen."

Both of the raiders laughed and the man that held the gun to Shawn's head looked him right in the eyes,"Sounds like we got a funny man over here, why don't you try some..."

Shawn quickly swiped the gun out of his face faster then the man could pull the trigger, Shawn stepped to the side and grabbed the man's arm before he could point the gun again. Shawn bent his wrist in a downward motion until he heard a snap. The man dropped the gun and screamed in pain. The other man swung his machete at Shawn in a downward motion. Shawn stepped to the side again and reached into waist and pulled out his combat knife. The man swung again to the side, Shawn ducked under the blade of the machete but only by inches. Shawn quickly stabbed the man's right upper leg. The blade ran deep into his leg and the man dropped to the ground. Shawn looked up and the other man with the broken wrist bent over to pick up the pistol that fell. Shawn swung his leg out and buried his foot into the head of the raider. The man was knocked unconscious.

Shawn put his now bloody knife back into waist. He ran down the pathway and soon enough he heard a gun shot and looked back for a split second. The man with the knife wound was lying on the ground firing off the gun in a last attempt to hit Shawn. Shawn ran off the path hoping to use the trees as more cover. He ran as fast as he could, which for his physical condition was pretty fast. However his luck changed when tripped over a fallen log and he fell down a small hill.

Shawn shook his head and looked up, he saw what appeared to be some sort of old world town. Buildings still standing, most of them anyway, he stood to his feet and brushed off the leaves and dirt that stuck to him during his fall. Shawn approached the town with caution as he did not know who or what would be found roaming it. He reached one of the buildings and poked his head around the corner, He couldn't see much so he moved parallel with the wall, staying low and and as quiet as he could. He looked onto the main street of the town, He saw there was a man with his daughter and another couple that seemed to be there. He studied there movements to see if they were dangerous or just locals, a voice appeared behind Shawn.

"Hello sir, How are you on this fine day?"

Shawn quickly turned behind him in shock and fear, He saw a Mr Handy unit hovering in front of him, "Uhhh hello, what is this place?"

The unit looked at Shawn,"This is Sanctuary Hills, seems like more people seem to be discovering this town."

Shawn stood up and nodded he walked down the main road and looked at the buildings, the town seemed quiet enough, Shawn walked over to one of the buildings and took a seat. He leaned up against the wall that looked over the main road and watched as the others went on with their business. Shawn threw his bag at his feet and opened it and placed the almost now empty water bottle int the bag. He pulled out a piece of paper and then slipped it back into the bag not thinking about it too much. He then grabbed the only Whiskey bottle he left, just like the water the bottle was almost empty. There was barely enough for a shot but Shawn still opened the bottle and downed the whiskey. He threw the bottle at the side of one of the homes, on impact the bottle shattered into millions of pieces. he then turned to the others and shouted, "Hey does anyone have any alcohol?!?!?!"

Martin Ruriksson

Sanctuary Hills Outskirts

Martin was living between two timestreams, living in the present, but he still remembered the beauty of Sanctuary Hills in autumn bloom. He looked around, the ruined houses instantly restored to their Pre-War condition and he smiled a sad, nostalgic smile. "What I wouldn't have given to live in a place like this back in the Old Days. Too rich for my blood though." He rasped aloud to no one in particular. He'd began his journey here on the suggestion of a radio signal stating Sanctuary as a safe place and he wanted to get away from Boston proper with all the violence. He was scared as he got close, fearing this might be a trick of raiders. Martin wasn't exactly an experienced combat veteran, often choosing to beg and plead or run and hide. But to his relief the old suburb had people working to make it livable and safe. He was soon greeted by an old worn Mr. Handy model. "Good morning, sir." Martin rasped, "I heard your broadcast, might I ask who I talk to about settling into one of these old homes?" The old Handy looked around as if unsure. "I'd suggest speaking to Master first. He can usually be found about. Don't worry, sir."

After having pleaded his case as a town mechanic, he picked one of the old homes still standing and smiled as he pushed the half-hinged front door open and looked around. The home was dilapidated but he could mentally see all the Pre-War comfort it had once had like in the old magazines. Martin chuckled to himself and rasped to himself, "Took 200 years, but I'm finally in the suburbs.". He went into the bedroom and saw there was an old bed in poor state of affairs. He groaned as he sat on the matress, taking off his boots and looking nosily through a small hole in the wall to the other people, his new neighbours, and smiled contently, 'home' he thought warmly. A strange and satisfying sense of peace he'd not long felt washed over him.

((OOC: If anyone wants to interact with Martin, I have no objections. I just wasn't comfortable CCing the game central characters so I kept it vague for now.))

Laura Arlington
Sanctuary Hills

Returning to Sanctuary Hills didn't feel right to Laura, but she didn't feel like there was any other place for her to go.

After all Sanctuary was familiar, or at least it was. There were some new faces around that Laura wasn't to fond of, so she set up camp on the hill by the vault entrance.

She planned on staying here for awhile, feel out the newcomers. They seemed decent enough but after Lexington she couldn't trust too many people any more. From her vantage point Laura could see that most of the Sanctuary she knew was gone, turned to rubble.

But she did recognize something, or someone for that matter. She caught a quick glimpse of him and just as quickly without even thinking she ran down the hill towards him. She got to the main street, now panting heavily but from here she could see him clearly, and she knew for sure who it was.

“Codsworth!?” Laura yelled enthusiastically as she stood in the middle of the street. Not caring about the attention she may be drawing to herself.

The old Mr. Handy spun around to face Laura, it took a second for him to recognize her. But when he did he met her enthusiasm. “Mrs. Arlington is that really you!?” Codsworth gleefully hovered towards Laura where he was met with an awkward hug.

“Codsworth I can't believe it's you!”

“Oh Laura it truly is wonderful to see you again. How is the misses? I haven't seen her in ages, has she gotten home from Pittsburgh yet? She has been gone an awfully long time.”

Laura began to well up at the thought of her wife, and their young daughter. She leaned in close to Codsworth laying her arm around his chassis. “Codsworth honey, Eva's gone. So is little Anna. Don't you know what happened? The worlds gone.”

“Nonsense Ms. Laura, you shouldn't think such things. I know you have a hard time being alone. I'm sure they're flight was just delayed. They should be arriving home at any minute. Why don't you come inside my family should be home soon as well. The Mistress just loves when you visit, not to mention how much Sir likes to talk to you about the VA, did you make the last meeting?”

“No Codsworth I didn't, I don't think any of us did.” Laura looked at the rubble around her, it brought flashbacks of a time in where she was at peace. When she had someone to ease her sorrows. Now she's alone, even after meeting Codsworth. It only made the pain sting deeper, she should of never come down here. “Hey, Codsworth honey I'm sorry but I have to get going. I promise I'll come visit you again.” Laura headed off back to her camp, and just as she was about to get back on the dirt path leading to the vault she heard Codsworth yell after her.

“Oh please do mum. I sure do miss seeing little Anna!”

Laura stopped for a minute wiping the tears from her eyes. “I do to Codsworth, believe me.” Before she could dwell too long on it she headed back up to camp.

Back at camp Laura started her fire and wrapped herself in an old moth eaten blanket. Her rifle within arms length encase she needed it.

The little trailer she was in did well to keep the wind off of her, and keep the heat in as well. Feeling relatively safe she laid back on the old mattress she was using as a bed tucking herself as snugly into the corner of the trailer as she could.

Still wrapped in her blanket she ran her fingers through her hair, watching as little silver strands got caught in the wind and danced around the trailer before being blown out into the Commonwealth. Before long she would have to cut it off, but for now she wanted to enjoy it while she still had it.

So instead of worrying about the future Laura decided she would get a few winks of sleep, even though she was worrying about the present and if anyone had seen her in Sanctuary and decided to investigate her. If they did her rifle was loaded. Laura clutched its barrel in her arm, not feeling the icy chill of the barrel. “I really hope I don't have to use you.” Laura then closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep, if only for a brief moment.

It was heartening to see the Mr. Handy flick back and fro, welcoming uninvited guests warmly into the long-dead neighbourhood. A big sleepover is what it felt like to Ellie. The human herd migrated away from the increasingly violent radstorms at the sea and settled in a new flock in the Sanctuary Hills, as though disparate raddeer had formed a new flock on ancestral grounds. The ghoul was no strange sight anymore and it was comforting to see how quickly he and all the others got to work to making their nests.

Then, Africa gave a brief shiver as if by premonition. Her dark brown eyes tracked north as she heard a gunshot in the north. Two pairs of eyes quickly joined her, briefly caught in a frame of panicked silence and observance. A second gunshot followed. Wordlessly, the three sprang into action, Naval and Africa exchanging their luggage clumsily as they sought cover. Africa's breathing was panicked. Fearful. Naval's wide eyes snapped forth and back to the source of the gunshots; his eyes were already watering.

"In the house, in the house!" Past the picket fence, Naval Sanders fumbled with the strap of his pipe rifle and loaded a magazine of bullets after two tries. A gasp; back, Africa caught Ellie stumbling over the threshold of an abandoned home. The two dragged their famished bodies inside as the similarly emeciated Naval tried to locate the source of the gunshots.

A man was racing towards town, his hand and arm covered with blood and with pants covered with what could pass for more. A raider? Flat on his face he fell, stumbled over a log. A metallic click interrupts Naval's nerve-wrecked breath as he removes the safety on his rifle. He loses track of the man behind a building only to re-emerge, looking cautiously into the main street. The robot approaches unperturbed . Well, Mr. Handy or no, this man was clearly connected to the two gunshots. A demanding shout came from the bloodied stranger following the deafening sound of glass shattering on broken asphalt; "Hey does anyone have any alcohol?!?"

The sound of the shattered glass prompted Naval to take aim truly at the man, answering the question, "Wha-- KEEP YOUR VOICE DOWN!" followed by panicked hushes in the house behind him. "We heard the gunshots! How many of you are there?" Naval demanded, trying to make his starved voice sound clear and resolute, but not too loud to attract unwanted attention.

In the midst of the confusion, a merrier occurence appears. "Well, it isn't a Ms. Nanny.." Ellie whispered with a strained, adoring smile as she watched a woman dressed in a military trench coat give the sentient cutlery set a trusting hug. The two refuge-seeking women had slumped together inside the house, watching through the cracks in the wall. Ellie leaned against the shoulder presented to her inside the safety of the house. Africa pinched Ellie's fingers bravely, "It's okay, I'm sure you'll like him too," she replied with a thin smile on her face. The duo pairs of eyes shifted back and fro between the embrace between man and machine and wilderness for wilder men to appear.

Robert and Dorothy Elmsley

All of a sudden what had gone from a previously deserted and unassuming township, and suddenly come to life as it seemed several groups of people came streaming in. Dorothy surveyed the situation suspiciously, wondering who these individuals were and who might be friendly or trustworthy. At this point it was difficult to tell. There were sounds of gunshots off in the distance, and shouts, but Dorthy couldn't tell if it was raiders or just someone firing off a pistol for fun.

Thinking it best not to linger at the doorway, Dorthy picked up what wood and scraps she had gathered in a metal bucket and heaved it into the House, keeping her rifle close by her at all times.

Just as she came in the door, Robert came out from the bedroom, taking off his hard-hat as he sat down in a rickety wooden chair near the remains of what used to be a kitchen counter,

"What's going on?" He asked, a worried expression crossing his face as he saw Dorothy's concerned look,

"People coming into the town," She replied, "Some of them look a bit rough. I heard gunshots too."

At this, Robert drew his pipe revolver and placed it on the counter, "Just in case," He replied, "But I don't think we need to worry too much. If they were looking for trouble...." His voice suddenly died away at the sight of a metallic body in the doorway,

"I SAY!" The angered Mr. Handy shouted out, "How rude. Coming into the Master and Missus house unannounced like that. Very poor taste."

Robert reached for his revolver l slowly, but Dorothy shook her head, instead offering her hand, "Sorry. We're new in the neighborhood. We were just looking for a place to stay awhile. Is this your house?" She said, acting as polite as she could to the robot.

"Why yes it is, thank you for asking, the name's Codsworth, and I'm afraid you're standing in the house of my Master and his wife, and the little one of course. They've been out for awhile you see...but I'm sure they'll be back any moment....." Codsworth replied, his voice lowering slightly to a saddened tone, before he resumed his usual cheery tone, "And so you are Mr. and Mrs....?" Codsworth paused, and motioned his robotic hands as if trying to coax out a response from them.

Robert and Dorothy were silent for a few seconds. Unsure of how to react to the obviously confused robot. Mr. Handy's weren't known for fighting, but a single spray of that flamer of his could do some serious damage, and potentially kill them,

"Uhhh....the Elmsleys? We're the Elmsleys," Dorothy replied hesitantly.

"Ahh the Finklesteins of course. The Mister and the Misses will be so glad to see you've stopped by, make yourselves at home. I've done my best to keep the home clean. I'm afraid it may not be up to your standards but I assure you it is the cleanest home in Sanctuary. I don't know what's happened to the neighborhood lately, but did you know the neighbors have the biggest cockroaches I've ever seen and what's more giant flies. Positively disgusting, I shall have to talk to the Housing Office once they fix that phone of theirs!"

Dorothy giggled a bit, clearly 'Codsworth' here was carrying on his own story, making up characters as he went along to pretend as if the war had never come, and his pre-war life had never ended. It was comical, but also deeply sad in a way, and Dorothy actually felt terrible for the poor thing.

Robert just rolled his eyes,

"You deaf robot? My wife said....."

But Dorothy shot him an angry glance which shut him up quickly, and he raised his hands as if to say 'Fine, I'll leave it be.'

"Thank you Codsworth," Dorthy said with a smile, "We appreciate it."

"Right then, I have to see to some of these new visitors. So many new faces coming in to our lovely little hamlet here. Tata!" And with that, he floated on out the door and down the street,

"Crazy robot," Robert muttered to himself as he ran his hand through his dirty hair, "Guess it thinks we're some pre-war family or something."

"He's just lost and confused is all," Dorothy replied, a forlorn look on her face out of sympathy for Codsworth, "He misses his family so much, and is doing everything he can to pretend they never vanished. Along with everything else he'd ever known."

Robert stared at his wife for a few moments, before his expression softened, "Yeah I guess you're right hun. It is pretty sad. Kind of like a lost pup. But look on the bright side," He said, touching her hand, "Least he has a whole bunch of new people to meet now. Speaking of which..." Robert gave a sigh and stood up, "I guess we should go try and see what's going on out there. Meet some of these people and figure out who's who. Can't hurt."

"After you," Dorthy replied with a giggle, and gave her husband and light shove out the door.

Malcolm Grant – Sanctuary

He had to keep moving. Just keep on moving.

His eyes flicked back, then swept on forwards, Laser Pistol raised calmly and coldly, his footsteps light and springy as he made his way through the brush. Then, gunshots on the wind, he immediately made for cover. Eyes wide and alert, breath heavy and stomach gnawing with hunger. A grimace as a hunger pain flickered through him, the air was silent for a few moments. Satisfied at that, Malcolm cautiously rose up and continued moving.

At last, he came to the edge of a settlement. His eyes searched the place from afar. Movement, people bustling here and there. Another stab of pain, his eyes closed, before he opened them and continued his survey of the place. No one openly hostile, but appearances could be deceiving. They could have food. Hot food, not the cold food he had. His stomach groaned at that. His chapped lips opened and closed slightly as he weighed his options, before finally, he reached a decision.

Standing up, he holstered his Laser Pistol, but kept it on show, and slowly, approached the growing crowd. His eyes flicking around, he stood still at the edge before managing to find some words to say. His tone cold.

“Do any of you people have any food to spare? If any of you have any medical complaints, I’ll address them as recompense for any trouble caused. I’m a fully trained medical professional.”

A shudder inside at having to say those words to those things. A forced smile on his face, he let it subside after half a second over how uncomfortable it felt before falling silent for a moment.

Then, as if to help him along, his stomach decided to let out a very large rumble.

Jayson Venner and Arthur, Outskirts northeast of Sanctuary

Jayson knew something was wrong. The world around him was spinning, but not in the typical fashion of someone who had been liberal with a bottle of bourbon, as he had been. No, the world was flipping around him in an alternating blur of blues and browns and greens, threatening to turn his stomach.

Then, he was surrounded in cold wetness. Brackish water flowed into his mouth and threatened to flood his lungs, and for a second he thought he was going to drown. But then, he could feel mud beneath his fingers.

Venner burst out of the water like an enraged mirelurk, splashing water about in hung over confusion. He wheeled around, his sight locking onto a footlocker-laden wagon half submerged into the brown water. In the hills behind it, he could make out a Protectron harnessed in brown leather.

"Arthur, you bumbling idiot of a robot," he yelled out, shaking an angry fist in its direction. "What are you playing at?!"

"My apologies, sir," the robot replied in an English accent, slowly making its way down the slope. "I was tangled in some shrubbery and it appears that the straps on my harness gave way, causing me to be disconnected from the wagon."

"Well, get over here and help me pull this thing out," Jayson responded, snatching the trilby floating nearby and splashed towards the stricken wagon. He got a grip on one side while Arthur grabbed the other side, and together they pulled the wagon out of the pond just enough that it would not roll back in.

Venner examined the wagon. None of the ropes lashed over the footlockers had broken, so they were all still there. However, they had shifted into the wooden bench at the front, resulting in the seat now being angled forward, which probably contributed to his flight into the pond.

Upon further examination, he discovered a problem.

"Argh," Jayson grumbled in frustration. "The axle is broken. I can't fix this! This is your fault Arthur!" He pointed an angry finger at his companion.

"My apologies, sir. Perhaps we can find a place nearby that can help us?"

"Well, that's all fine and dandy, if I knew where you've taken us!" Jayson retorted. He surveyed the immediate area and found he recognized nothing.

"So, where exactly are we?" he questioned.

Arthur paused for a moment, and responded, "We are still a significant distance away from our primary destination, Diamond City. However, I am detecting several structures of Pre-War origin in that direction." It pointed a metal arm across the creek to the hills beyond.

"Pre-War? Any people?" Jayson asked.

"Data inconclusive. I do believe I may be suffering a sensor malfunction," it reported.

"A load of good, you are," Jayson said sarcastically. "Well, let's go see if we can find someone to help us out."

The pair made their way across the creek and up the hill, and found a collection of Pre-War buildings in various states of disrepair just past the hill's crest. They quietly moved into the east side of the town into a cul-de-sac, and spotted a Mr. Handy down the road.

"Crap!", Jayson cursed as he dodged behind a building. Thinking he may have been spotted, he peeked around the corner, and found the Mr. Handy in the same spot as before.

Venner laid prone on the ground and observed the area. He witnessed several wastelanders approach the floating robot, then move to other buildings; he spied others bypass the robot entirely. It was all very quiet and peaceful, aside from the sounds of gunfire off in the far distance as was typical of the Wasteland.

Jayson rolled up to his feet and crouched over to where Arthur waited.

"Okay, looks like people are moving about claiming house," He concluded. "I'm pretty sure they aren't Raiders, otherwise that Mr. Handy would be in pieces. I'd say lets follow the locals and grab a house ourselves until we can figure out what to do next."

"Sir, I think it would be rude to appropriate a house without first introducing ourselves," the Protectron responded.

"You know what, you're right," he countered. "You go make nice with the locals. I'll go pick out a place."

"Very good, sir." Arthur made to move, then turned back and asked, "What should I ask, sir?"

"Jeez, Arthur, I don't know. The nearest stash of food. Its favorite color. Anything, now go!"

Arthur shuffled off to speak with the Mr. Handy, while Jayson walked over to a collapsed house on the south end of the cul-de-sac. He picked up a fallen section of plywood and leaned it against the foundation. He retrieved a piece of chalk from a pocket and scribbled something on the board; he then began shifting around the rubble.

On the board, it said, "house taken. go away."

(OOC: edited to reflect housing claims)

Helen – Sanctuary Outskirts

It was a beautiful little thing, far too pretty to be surrounded by so much destruction. She watched intently as the dainty indigo butterfly investigated the ruinous house, coming to settle on the dirty skull of a century year old corpse nestled deep in what remained of the sofa. She continued to roll up her bedding and stood, packing into her knap sack. The butterfly had moved to the window pane and now rested there. There on the cracked and broken glass, with the clear sky behind it, Helen reached up and snatched it. Stuffing it into her satchel she headed towards a roughly man sized hole in the wall, she peeked out slightly to ensure no one was there and proceeded.

It was a cloudless sky, and the sun was warm upon her face but the wind carried a chill with it. She pulled her robe closed and bound it with a belt around her waist. The road was in a dismal state but would be far easier to travel upon than moving through the backwoods and ruins. Despite this the roads were not an option, people traveled the roads and people had eyes and Helen preferred not to be seen. She was thankful that she had invested in new Brahmin leather boots before coming north. Her previous shoes would’ve been trashed long ago on the journey and now, in the muck and mud they would’ve been soaked.

By the time the sun began its descent she stood looking at a small squatter camp. She crept low and hugged the rocks and ruins where she could on her approach. She could only see a handful of people but had no doubt more were hidden within their dwellings. Leaving her vantage point Helen took refuge near a briar patch, using a rock she beat and gouged at the earth scoring out a shallow pit. Into this she threw what leaves and dry material she could, above Helen fastened several large branches together to form a crude roof. Using her finger nails and teeth she striped the thorn from the vines and bound the roof of the shelter. By the end of it her fingers bled from a thousand pricks and she spit blood from where her cheeks and tongue had been cut. Helen then gathered more briar branches and wove them through the shelter, by the end of it from all but one direction the small shelter blended with the briar patch.

She scrambled in the dark ruins for kindling and firewood. Finding a bit she lit a small fire, just enough for warmth, she was careful to have erected a makeshift wind screen before. Now the fire, like her shelter was also concealed, until she knew more about the squatters, Helen would not risk being found.

Laura Arlington
Sanctuary Hills

“Why did you leave us? Does it hurt knowing that you were supposed to protect us, and you failed!? Now you're alone, like you deserve to be! So, wake up Laura, Wake up and reap what you've sown!”

“No!” Laura awoke from her brief slumber sweating profusely with chills down her spine. It took her a brief moment to realize that it was just another nightmare and that it wasn't real. But that didn't make it any less jarring.

Laura sat up on her mattress holding her head in her hands and sighed heavily. Her campfire was about to go out so she placed a few more pieces of firewood onto it making sure it caught. Before then getting a painful stomach cramp to make her realize just how long it's been since shes eaten.

“Well, I might have something in my bag to eat.” So she began to rummage through her satchel where she kept most of her food. Finding nothing but a box of Salisbury Steak and a half drank bottle of Nuka-Cola Quantum. “I guess this will do, not to sure how I feel about the glowing urine though. I have enough wrong with me as it is. The last thing I need is cancer.....” Laura caught herself, taking a moment to reflect on her current physical shape. She ran all of her symptoms through her head, and decided that making a lighthearted gesture about cancer may be hitting too close to home.

Regardless she put the steak alongside the fire to at least warm it up a little. Since the stuff was already cooked. After a few minutes it was warm enough to eat, and Laura devoured it all.

She was so hungry that it didn't even feel like she had eaten. Once she was finished with the steak she popped the loosely fitted cap of the quantum and drank it down in one gulp, holding the bottle up in front of her face, inspecting it like it was a person. “Why do I even care. If you're going to be what kills me. Then please get it over with.”

She stuffed the bottle back into her satchel, then took off her coat. Hanging it over the doorway into the trailer to help block the chilling wind that was coming in.

Once her jacket was off she caught a brief chill but it was easily ignored once she moved closer to the fire holding her hands close to warm them up.

Now being satisfied with the state of the fire Laura moved back over to her mattress, wrapped herself in her blanket and laid back watching the embers flicker out of the fire, and turn to blackened cinders when they hit the cold steel floor.

Despite her emotional distress. Laura felt strangely at ease. It was something she hadn't felt for a very long time. But she made sure not to let such emotion get in the way of her better judgment. She knew well enough what such a mistake could do, she barred the many scars to prove it.

Shawn Crowell

Sanctuary Hills

Shawn waited to see if anyone responded to his question but like most times he asked, no one responded to him. Shawn started laughing to himself then quickly stopped before anyone looked at him and though he was crazy. Shawn picked up his old backpack and closed it and threw it over his shoulder.

Shawn kept his back against the wall staring onto the street as new people seemed to arrive. All of them had their own stories and reasons for arriving, as did Shawn. He studied them closely trying to figure out who could be trusted and who would be more of a nuisance. Shawn gave off a small chuckle and talking under his breath, "Then again I arrived to town while being shot at."

He then heard a voice coming from one of the homes, "Wha-- KEEP YOUR VOICE DOWN!"

Shawn looked into the home and tried to make the out the silhouette of a person but couldn't really seem them clearly. Shawn responded, "So you did hear those gunshots I was unsure, However I can tell your not a true threat because you would have taken a shot at me if you were a raider."

Shawn chuckled a bit as the voice responded,"We heard gunshots! How many of you are there?"

"Yes those gun shots were sort of caused by me and i'm by myself if that's what your asking. I'm just a traveler and some idiots picked a fight with the wrong person. Now we can either talk or you can keep your gun pointed at me, just make sure that if you plan to take a shot, it kills me."

Shawn walked out onto the main road looking at the people arriving into the town. He stood there and watched as a man wrote something on one of the walls. Shawn kept looking at the individual until his message was complete, "House take. Go away."

He either doesn't like people or just wants to be protective. Shawn thought to himself

Shawn stared at another man who asked everyone,"Do any of you people have any food to spare? If any of you have medical complaints, I'll address them as recompense for any trouble caused. I'm a fully trained medical professional."

Shawn looked at the man and in a sarcastic tone, "Well like I told that person in the home there were two guys to the north one was knocked out unconscious with a broken wrist the other has a knife wound in his leg. However I'm not sure they are all to friendly."

Shawn thought to himself, A guy that doesn't want to be bothered, a person that doesn't hide all to well, and someone with a medical background. This place is more interesting than expected.

Shawn stood in the middle of the town and shouted to anyone listening, "If you heard gunshots about ten minutes ago that was caused by me! There is no need to worry about it!"

Bufftats

Trash rustled under me as I began to rouse from my sleep, the cold hard walls of the dumpster I had climbed into last night was welcoming at the time. Ghouls didn't bother me, and raiders had no idea I was even here; not that I saw any last night but they can be like ninjas appearing when you least expect it stealing your sweetrolls. As I cracked the lid open not a Ghoul was in sight which was a little odd for Lexington but there were days like this, a blue sunny sky - birds chirping in the breeze and purple trees.. Wait that's not right? Who colors trees? Dammit must be the jet..

After hopping out of the dumpster which stank of rotten swill. That's a word, swill? Must be heard Jared say that once, or was it Red. No matter, it's a word now. Not like anyone will argue. I kept my bat slung over my shoulder as I walked the streets, a Ghoul sat crouched just off in the distance they were pretty easy one on one, just shoot it's legs out and smash the brain pan. If only hunting were that simple, I'd had caught that Molerat yesterday. But wait, what was I doing again? Come to think of it I don't think I was doing something, naw guess I'm just wandering in some direction. Maybe I'll get lucky and stumble on a stash of chems, or breakfast at the very least; yeah breakfast sounds good.

As I wandered through Lexington I'd been into most of these buildings, propped up some skellys for fun, looted everything else I could find. From here I could check out Concord, or Malden. But Malden has those Gunners. Right Concord it is, just gotta make sure I don't run into any Glowing Ones, or Withered Ghouls. Some hours passed as I made my way towards Concord, met a trader on the way said some people were headed towards that Sanctuary place. I might check that out tomorrow. Or the day after.. Eventually I suppose. First let's see what's in Concord. The closer and closer I got towards Concord the more I heard it, gunfire, and the sound of a musket. Sneaking in close wasn't difficult. I had the cover of the bears. Their laughing distracted any who'd spot me, and they were all fluff so they couldn't be killed. From my point of view it looked like one hell of a shootout. Wasn't many raiders probably a small scouting party wouldn't be long until more came and swarmed this place. Righty then, as good as time as any to check out this Sanctuary.

(OOC I should have Bufftats in Sanctuary by the next day, doesn't make sense we'd all arrive on day one.)

Martin Ruriksson

Sanctuary Hills

Martin rolled over onto his feet, yawning. rubbing his eyes, mildly alarmed to see the necrotic skin. It'd been a while since he slept in a proper home and disoriented with dreams he was briefly thinking he was still a normal human (he hated being called a mutant.). He decided now was as good a time as any to begin checking out the house and seeing what needed major repairs. Taking out a small notepad he used when he was on a job to make checklists, he began walking around the house. "Bedroom walls, rotted and in need of new timber. Closet fuse box, couple blown fuses and needs replacing." He moved to the bathroom across the hall an continued absently. "Sink faucets....A little squeaky. Easy fix. Toilet and shower have no flow. Gonna need to check those out. Light works, that's a plus." He skipped the extra bedroom. He lived alone, so he had no reason to immediately focus on it and made his way to the main area of the house. "Front corner by the living room is burnt or rotted, needs timber and scrap. Windows a mostly intact, thankfully. Oven has gas, can you believe that? Surprised it didn't blow during the war. Hmmm, fridge could use a little work though. It's running, but there's a leak of cool air, that's not right." Martin looked over at the door still needing fixing and jotted a quick reminder to get a new hinge. Stepping outside, Martin looked around at the bustle of people working or settling in, like a real community. Turning around, he inspected the roof, noting patches that'd need fixing to keep out radiation storms and general flying pests and looked admiringly to the Chryslus car parked under the carport. It was faded heavily, but for an old Ghoul like him it was once cherry red, and expensive. He smiled to himself with the idea to fix it up. A nice car like that wouldn't be worth a damn traveling the rocky bumpy roads of the Post-War world, but he enjoyed pet projects that kept him busy. Before he let himself get too carried away, he reminded himself he had work to do and pocketed the note.

Going back inside, Martin brought out an old toolbelt he'd found in the backyard shed that'd make it more convenient to carry some of his tools instead of keeping all of them clustered in the box, but still brought the box and a wheelbarrow from out back, the wheel wobbling a little floppily. Luckily a house nearby was perfect for scrap. It was mostly burnt and caved in, so no one would likely mind as he began cutting down wood with a saw and a hammer to pull nails to reuse or general scrap off the old building. Setting the cart down just on the old sidewalk, he began the work of cutting and hammering down old pieces into usable parts for his house.

Naval, Ellie & Africa
Sanctuary

The shuffle of two people in the ruined building (http://imgur.com/4bRIIdl) followed what appeared to be an all clear. The young, darker skinned girl kept her head down and her chin burried in her winter scarf, while the caucasian brunette kept her within arm's length. They were both clearly starving, their faces were gaunt and grimed up from travel. Oddly, while the brunette seemed on the dehydrated side, the young girl besides her seemed to be positively saturated. In their free hands hung a metal toolbox and a fraying suitcase respectively.


The man with the rifle rose from behind the picketed fence and he lowered the gun to let it hang more comfortably from the strap. A world-weary breath escaped the man's chest. He was wearing a dirty black suit; it was covered in scuff marks and holes, letting the other layers of clothing shine through. A simple beret lay on his head, swept to the side. There were black rings under the man's eyes. "There's two of them...?" he wondered out loud. He glanced back to the other two. There was a hint of concern, but also stoicism in his expression as his eyes glanced from the caucasian brunette to the blood relative hugging her chin to her chest next to her.

After a second's ponder, Naval turned his gaze back towards the bloodied stranger. "I would go out there and kill'm, but I figure whatever buddies they still have in the area will be lurking around, waiting for an easy kill to make this worth their while... Do you think they had any food?" That was his rationale, anyway. In truth, he didn't think he could even take out two injured raiders, much less any reinforcements that might be under way. Probably best to leave them alone and hope that this tough-guy before him made them think twice about coming back.

Ellie looked up towards the path where the woman familar to the Mr. Handy had left. Her brow furrowed a slight as she saw the road disappear over the hill, a trailer on the precipice. It's metal glinted in the orange sun.

"Nav?"
"Yes, sweetie?" Naval's hardened voice replied in decrescendo.
"The woman on the hill might be caught off-guard by those raiders if she stays there. Shall we go up there and talk to her...?" Ellie gave that characteristic smile that overpowered the anticipated disapproval. Africa looked up towards her in-law, before bobbing her head up and down at her and her big brother. Naval was powerless to do anything other than agree with a reply in kind.
"Alright, raison, take your gun with you, alright...? I'll get us settled in." To the unstudied ear, it sounded like "Nav" had a particularly strange way of saying "raisin" and an odd way about complimenting a woman after a wrinkly, dried out fruit.
"Okay. Come on, honey, let's go say hi..." Ellie grasped Africa's fingers and headed up the hill towards where she had seen the woman disappear. The toolbox and suitcase remained on the threshold of the ruined house.

Towards the medical professional Nav's gaze was drawn then; up and down it when before the traveler shook his head solemnly, "I-eh... Could do with a check-up, but we got no food. Check back with me later, alright?" His lips pulled together to a thin, regretful stripe before he stumbled, then walked towards the toolbox and suitcase. With a grunt, he lifted the luggage off the ground, content to let the pipe rifle dangle from it's strap from his neck as he slowly, step-by-step, made his way to the house next door. It seemed relatively intact at least.

His gaze went towards the couple coming from the robot's house. Naval stopped briefly and smiled. He raised his voice towards them to greet them, setting his toolbox in a windowsill so he could wave at them. "Hello neighbour!" he announced, waiting for conversation.

[Time reserved for a quick meet-and-greet with the Elmsleys]

The prospector leaned his head forward as he peered into the house (http://imgur.com/4bRIIdl), glancing around for anything that needed killing. It seemed to be quiet enough for now. Standing inside what would once have been a living room, Naval glanced outside to see the neighbouring ghoul get to work. He seemed to be a scrapper like Naval. It'd be good to keep close ties with the ghoul; perhaps they would be able to get a water distillery running if they worked together.

His eyes passed towards the corridor and fell upon a slight bathroom. In the doorway to the decrepit restroom, Naval inspected the bathtub. A hand came up towards his chin to idly stroke it as he fantasized. Once he had a plan, his cracked his knuckles and a smug, confident grin appeared on his face. He had a plan. Something he had missed in a long while.

Over the next hour, Naval could be seen walking from car to car, stripping them from their seats and cutting out any intact leather that they might still have. When he had a small stack of leather sheets, he headed towards the ruined house (http://imgur.com/4bRIIdl) the ghoul appeared to have visited. In greeting, Naval raised his hand towards the ghoul. "Hey there! Can I bother you with some trading...?" he asked. His smile was bright, despite his emeciated exterior. Two rolls of de-seated leather lay under his arms as a promise.

****

Ellie & Africa
Sanctuary Hill

Gingerly, Ellie had guided her inlaw and adopted sister up the road. A shiver went down her spine as she felt a cold wind pass over them. It took a few seconds for Africa's trembling to come back under control.

"H-hello...?" Ellie asked aloud as she arrived on the top of the hill. The brunette's eyes passed over the plateau. Her eyes were instantly drawn to what appeared to be.. Vault 111. She had heard many stories of vaultdwellers, of course. Most of them were pretty crazy; the stories, that is. She wondered if this late vault was one of those that had been abandoned from the start. How'd they get in, anyway...?

"Miss...?" She asked again as she looked around for the woman she had seen before. "We don't mean to bother you...? We'd just like to make your acquaintance!"

The young Africa had detached herself, idly walking around, hugging her arms to her body as her face turned up and around towards the trees and the sky. In pre-war times, it might have seemed bored, but really, what else were you supposed to watch in the post-apocalypse without any screens to entertain you? Her dark, shoulder length hair swished around with each movement of her head as her darkbrown eyes explored the area in contrast to the bright blue ones that had transfixed themselves upon the woman in the trailer. Nervously, Ellie adjusted the grey knit cap on her head as she awaited a response, her arms crossed, leaning forward, as if it made a difference several yards away from the trailer.[/color]

Harrison Cole - The Road to Sanctuary

Crack.

The noise flashed through the trees with a humorless echo. A grunt, then a yelp.

" Finally, " murmured a figure, hunched over the still corpse of a mongrel. The figure, a man, leaned back on his knees. His breathing heavy, his hands bloodied.

" Just didn't want to give up, did you? " He continued, rising to his feet and looping his crowbar through the belt around his waist. Wiping his hands on the beast's ragged coat, he grimaced and grabbed the nape of its neck. " Meat's gonna be tough. "

The corpse wasn't heavy anyway, not for Cole, dragging it wasn't going to be as much of a pain as he'd imagined. So he hauled the beast along as he walked, trudging through the woods to find the road, not far from what looked to be a truck stop.

" Red Rocket, of course. Seen those things before, " he commented to himself and his only company, a lonely wind that whistled past.

At least dinner was arranged, another night of hunger wouldn't have been ideal. The jerky ran out awhile back and since then it had been what little bloatfly meat he could manage. Cole didn't fuss when it came to food, but bloatfly meat tasted more like oily boot than he cared for. Then that ran out and last night had passed with only a sip of water, snagged from a light canteen. Not easy, these days. But, if Sanctuary turned out to be more than hot air, the days ahead might not be as bad.

The truck stop passed, without the beast, he likely would have stopped to strip the place. But, the meat wouldn't do well in the cold, and perhaps he could point the place out to the settlers. So he strode on, his old combat boots thudding on the ancient pavement. Rusted-out husks of Corvegas greeted him, as did the gnarled remains of trees. Soon, a bridge appeared, hoisting the body onto his shoulder, Cole crossed.

The dilapidated houses came into view then, as did the moss-covered welcome sign. There were forms in the distance to be sure, whether or not they were hostile remained to be seen. Cole kept his eyes and ears open, scanning what was before him. The place seemed rather quiet, as he neared. Not much to look at, but it seemed as though there was shelter to be had. That was a start, at least.

Harrison stepped off the bridge and into Sanctuary, passing a few of the remains of homes, and into 'town' proper where he saw a few settlers gathered.

Approaching the settlers, he tossed the corpse of the mongrel to the ground and grunted, " Room for one more? "

Martin Ruriksson
Sanctuary

Martin had been lost in though, pulling scrap and cutting wood and pulling tile out of the floors and never noticed he'd been snuck up on by one of the other settlers. "Hey there, can I bother you with some trading?" Martin, acting on instinct, turned, 10mm in hands. "Back off, Smoothskin. I got nothing you want!" But when he remembered where he was, that this wasn't the wild wasteland. "I-I'm sorry. Been living in the Wastes a long time makes you paranoid. I've been mugged a couple times by people 'just wanting to trade' too." He extended a gloved hand, to prevent splinters or rust cuts. "I'm Martin. Martin Ruriksson." He said warily and half filled with shame. "I'm sorry, but I've not properly gone through this scrap just yet. Give me some time and come by my house later, I might have some stuff to trade. Most of it is pipes, wood, tile and sheet metal or the like. I live right next door to here if you want to stop by. No guns next time, I promise." With that, he lifted the wheelbarrow with a pile of various construction resources and his bigger tools like his saw and cutting board and rolled it to his back yard shed to sort through later.

When he locked the shed, he went back into the old suburb and began digging through other abandoned properties coming upon another ruined home. He dug around and found various trinkets. Jewels, old silverware, useless baubles in this day and age. He also found an old photo album and carried that with him too. He sifted around the lot until he found a curious sheet of metal. Upon lifting it, he found a cellar access. "Jackpot. Hello Pre-War goodies." He rasped with delight, descending down the creaking staircase into the dark basemant. He flicked a lighter, a dim light in the dark and damp cellar. He looked around until he caught sight of what he was looking for, the fusebox. "Power." He muttered quietly. "Let's see....still got juice in the lines, just needs a little switch and...." As the light turned on, the box sparked, zapping his hand with a strong jolt of electricity, causing him to yell a rude curse involving mothers. As the pain subsided, the looked around the cellar, the light bulb flickering at random intervals with 200 years of unstable power in the bulb. In a corner was a worn red leather armchair beside some boxes. He decided to take a seat and shift through the junk he'd gathered. Remembering the photo album from upstairs, he opened it and flipped through the pages in the flickering light, finding it to be filled with pictures of a girl with light hair. 'Nice pair, for a dead girl anyway' he thought with a grin. Digging through a box beside him, he found an unopened bottle of Pre-War vodka and drank some as he continued eyeing the pictures, embracing the burn in his throat with pleasure.

Shawn Crowell

Sanctuary Hills

Shawn stood in the middle of the street as the man that had his gun pointed in Shawn's direction finally stood up. He called out to Shawn, "There's two of them...?"

Shawn turned to the individual. He wore a crappy black suit that looked either pre-war or he went through hell to get it in that condition. He had his rifle hanging low only holding on by the strap tied to it. Shawn walked closer to the individual, "Yes there was only two of them."

After a few moments the stranger turned back towards Shawn, "I would go out there and kill'm, but I figure whatever buddies they still have in the area will be lurking around, waiting for an easy kill to make this worth their while....do you think they had any food?"

Shawn gave off a small chuckle, He looked into the strangers eyes, "I've done stuff like this before, one guy has a broken wrist and is laying their unconscious. The other has a deep knife wound in his upper leg, From what I've seen he wont be able to walk properly for several months maybe not ever if he doesn't seek medical attention. I don;t know if you noticed but this 'paradise' isn't really made for unconscious people or cripples."

Shawn looked around before continuing his little speech. He noticed a man coming into town with a dead mongrel, the thought of food crossing his mind made his stomach rumble loud. This is what happens when you spend your time looking for alcohol rather than food for the day. Shawn turned back to the individual, "As far as if they had food or not, I didn't have time to ask. However if you are so concerned about these people I'll be happy to go with you to finish the job and see if they are part of a larger group. If you excuse me sir."

Shawn started to walk away from the man and towards the newcomer to the settlement. Shawn turned back to the man with the rifle, "Name is Shawn by the way."

Shawn ran down the road to where the man dropped the bloodied mongrel corpse on the ground. The man shouted, "Room for one more?"

Shawn in a laughing matter replied, "Seems like this place always has room since more and more people keep arriving. Nice catch by the way, you shoot it?"

Laura Arlington
Sanctuary Hills - Vault 111 Surface Entrance

Laura didn't even hear the people coming up the hill, which she internally scrutinized herself for. At first she wasn't sure if they were friendly or not but once they called out to her she asumed they were. After all she was blind to their approach, obviously she couldn't see them coming and they would of known that.

So if they wanted to jump her calling out to her was a bad way of doing it. Or maybe they were really bad at jumping people. Either way Laura quickly got up from her mattress knocking an old terminal off the desk, as well as clamoring into other assorted junk. It must of sounded like a drunken brawl was ensuing inside her little camp. However Laura was not just externally caught off guard but internally she was going crazy.

“Got to get my jacket, they can't see my arm. Or my skin. Dammit hurry up if they see you like this they'll shoot you on the spot. Get yourself together Laura! Come on!” She frantically slipped her shoes on not even bothering to tie them, then grabbing her coat from its place hanging over the door way sloppily throwing it over her thin wiry frame. She then took her beret and somewhat straightened it on her head. Before bolstering towards the door, catching herself mere inches before she left. “Can't leave without the gun. Really!? I'm glad no one seen that.”

Laura picked her rifle up from under the assorted debris she tousled around the trailer. Working the action just to make sure it was loaded, making sure to catch the ejected round before it hit the floor, stuffing it in her pocket.

She then headed out the door slowly rifle shouldered and ready to fire. Laura was assuming there was only one, but anticipated at least 4. She was confident if it came down to a firefight she could drop at least 3 of them before she got hit, even with a bolt action. But if they had guns drawn she was dead before she could pull the trigger.

Once Laura got outside and seen a small child standing a few feet from her she immediately lowered her rifle. Although she still kept it at the ready, her finger was still in the trigger guard, the gun was just trained off the girl. “Remember Tianjin. Everyone's your enemy until they prove they're a friend. Even a child.”

Laura at least dropped down to one knee to appear less threatening, pointing her rifle towards the dirt. When a gust of wind caught her unfastened jacket almost blowing it open and causing her dog tags to settle outside her jacket for a brief moment, enough to bring attention to them .

Luckily Laura caught her jacket and fastened the middle button so it wouldn't open all the way. With that taken care of she put her full attention towards the two visitors, at least she hopped there was only two. She kept gritting her teeth expecting to get a thwack on the back of the head.

But Laura's main focus was on the little girl, she didn't look like Anna. But she reminded her of her little girl. “Hey honey, sorry about the gun. I didn't mean to scare you guys if I did.”

“This is it isn't it. The great lead redeemer is about to tear through my gut and then they're going to steal all my loot while I curse myself through bloody gurgles.”

Ooc: John’s eye probably looks something like this (https://shenaithemakeupgirl.wordpress.com/tag/melted/) but with scaring only around his left eye and darker looking (because SICENCE and I want it to be more noticeable)

--------

Late one moonlight night in a snow filled graveyard there stood two men. At one side a bitter middle-aged man in a black trench coat looking for change and on the other side an injured, bloodstained with skin starting to fall of younger man who’s thirst for revenge was the only thing keeping him standing in this harsh cold weather

Both men talked for awhile before drawing there 44.magnum but who shot first? And who walked away from the duel....

John Cooper – (House E ) - Sanctuary

John awoke on the couch of an old house (House E) with a half-drunken bottle of vodka in his hand and blanket wrapped around his legs to keep out the late-autumn cold, something that would only get worse as winter approached but at least John has (most) of a house now instead of being outside.....

Having arrived in the sanctuary area the day before John had made his up the hill to the Vault and had attempted to get inside but the vault evaluator controls would not work or at least not for John on from the outside. With it getting late John headed back to town and went to sleep in one of the older houses and would try again tomorrow.

Perhaps as a security feature the Vault needs to opened from the inside first? Think I’ll go and ask that robot if anyone has come in or out of this vault since the bombs dropped...

Taking a slip of the vodka John looked down at his (turned-off) broken pipboy and could see his face in the screen’s reflection. Looking at it for a movement John studied his seemlying melted looking scarred eye and blacken skin it had burnt around it.

Hopefully if I get you fixed I can figure out who do this...

Bottling up his drink and packing up his Blanket John got up and made his outside to the old per-war town which now had several people and a dead-looking thing wandering around and seemlying attempting to find houses to settle in or run away from something in the case of that one guy with the gun.

Jesus a lot of people showed up in one day or did I just miss all these people?

John would go and have a chat with some of these people in abit but first he would talk to that robot before someone (or John for that matter) reprogrammed it to be their butler or shot it for scrap metal parts... “Hey Robot you've been hovering around here for 200 years right, when was the last time someone went into the vault?"

“The Vault? Why the Mister and Misses took Shaun in there about" The Mr. Handy unit said as he vibrated slightly, "Two hundred years ago. Now I'm not a gossip or anything, but years ago some travelers headed in there, looked like they brought something out with them too. Really not much traffic there or here though. It is ever so nice to see the neighborhood coming alive again."

“So the... Vault dwellers haven’t left then? Hmm perhaps that’s why I could get in... going to have to find some to contact or overwrite then.”John thought to himself before turning back the robot “Thanks for the help robot, if I get into the Vault you can come along and find your master or there ancestors...given how long it's been"

Finishing his chat with the robot John turned around to look at the new setters roaming around town to see who he would speak to and perhaps find out what that dead thing wandering was... at least no-one seemed afraid of it so John assumed it was "safe" for the most part...

Not wanting to freak out any of the children or that guy with gun out with his eye scar John decided to approach the young couple wearing farmer clothing “err... Hello my name John cooper I would tell you more but I don’t remember much else...”

As John spoke to the couple an older man walked nearby “Do any of you people have any food to spare? If any of you have any medical complaints, I’ll address them as recompense for any trouble caused. I’m a fully trained medical professional.”

“Have this” John said as he opened his bag and tossed him a fancy lad snack cake “But I’m guessing you can’t treat scarred faces or amnesia can you?” John joked

Jayson Venner and Arthur, Ruined House 01, Sanctuary

Jayson was sitting down on the earth behind the house that he had claimed. He had a modest fire going in an improvised pit, which was helping to keep him warm in the cold evening air. Several sticks were planted in the dirt in front of him, pieces of meat skewered into them; his pipe pistol lay on the ground next to him. He took a nip from a bottle of whiskey, looking out past the river towards a red rocket in the far distance, as he thought on the events of the past day.

He had caught glimpses of the locals throughout the day, though none of them had approached him, which suited Jayson just fine. The locals appeared to be unassuming and nonthreatening, but he wasn't about to go assume that and introduce himself. That's what Arthur was for.

The pair had returned to the stricken wagon and unloaded the footlockers. They team-carried each footlocker out to the house; when they had finished with those, they manhandled the wagon across a shallow section of the creek, up the hill, and finally parked it next to the house.

Clearing out the ruined house turned out to be more complicated that he thought. It looked like the roof had collapsed into the house, so the rubble was one giant, interconnected pile of twisted steel and shattered wood and other less identifiable materials. Only one section of the back wall had remained upright; the rest had either been taken out by the roof's collapse, or had fallen over since that time. Jayson had given up early on, leaving Arthur to do the work.

Arthur was slowly clearing an area around the surviving section of wall. He was working into the night, breaking down the scrap pile into manageable chunks with methodical precision and pneumatic brute force, humming to himself all the while. He had even sorted the scraps into heaps of similar materials all around the house.

All that physical effort had turned out to be a bad idea. He had strained himself trying to do the job, and his medical-braced knee was still throbbing in alternating waves of dull aches and sharp pains, hours after he had stopped. He was taking liberal draughts of whiskey to help dull the pain, and he had contemplated taking a shot of Med-X, but decided against it, as it is hard to come by and expensive to boot.

Jayson put down the whiskey bottle and reached into a nearby footlocker. He rummaged through the contents and fished out an old, Pre-War magazine, and began to read it as he waited for his meat skewers to cook.

Asynchronous replies;

Naval Sanders
Sanctuary

The man had watched for a few seconds, assessing the ghoul's handiwork. Prospectors were anything other than a rare breed, even though Naval was conscious of the fact that he hadn't actually seen his colleagues work. Still, it was easy to see the difference between the scrapper desperate to put anything a nail's thickness together; the perfectionist amateur pondering over every rusty sheet of steel and a professional who knew to work in passes and with objectives.

Instantly, the doubtlessly younger prospector raised his hands. Author's note; it is funny how theatrics and the genuine can exist on a continuum. The motion at which Naval raised his arms was almost dramatic, beginning with a wave that ripples through his arms, till they ended above his head, through his spine as he bounces back. His chest puffed the "woah!" through his throat, the foam on the wave. Even his brow seems to jump fluidly upwards. Muscle memory; the instant recognition one is outgunned or outnumbered. Making sure that in no way it could be mistaken you are aware of your own vulnerability. Exposing your neck, lying flat on your back, hands on your head, but the stance wide, ready to jump. Dramatic, but vague it was not.

Naval's posture relaxed, letting his hands fall in a slow, deliberate manner. No sudden movements, not even a lip quiver. Perhaps the crack of a smile. His eyes were studious as his lips turned up, signalling that forgiveness one must have in a wilderness of (dis)honorable thieves and cretins. The man stumbled over his own words accepting the apology of the man, "Oh, no, sure-- Fine, it's really-- Okay," as they shook hands and he snickered the incident under the bridge.

Their callous hands exchanged through that membrane of stiff, leathery manners, no doubt the same texture of the real thing. "Naval Sanders; you can call me Nav, though." Once those hands parted, they were pocketed. As his offer was postponed, he continued. "Oh, well, you could see it as an advance payment. I'm looking for some insulation material; I'm gonna try and turn my bathtub into a sofa bed. Perhaps a second one too for my misses." So quickly, things get those pronouns attached.

The fellow prospector joined the ghoul for a walk as he was making his offer, casually swinging his left hand freely, "You know. Metal foil. Mineral wool. None of these people are prospectors like you and me; they wouldn't know wool from asbestos. Hey, and maybe we could work on some water system when you got time! Make ourselves valuable to people." As the ghoul locked up his shed, Naval said simply, "Well, if you come across any of it, you know where to find me, neighbour, I live in that thing over there," he said, with a flick of his right hand towards the house (House H) he had chosen. Naval returned to the ruin he, for now, called home.

[Room for other approaches.]

Meanwhile, on the hill...

Ellie & Africa
Sanctuary Hills - Vault 111 Surface Entrance

Ellie's lips pouted with confusion with a raise of her brow as she heard the thunderous revival of the survivor inside. Both hands raised to Africa's shoulders, who stared on impassively. Of the two, the 23-year old jumped the most dramatically as a bolt fed it's bullet inside of the trailer, but not the 13-year old. She just folded her arms and stared Laura straight in the eyes with lips that were pressed together. Those eyes had a glint to them that was rare these days in the Commonwealth, reflecting the world right back at itself, conquering it with saucer-like vision, as an echo of Ellie's gasp might be heard miles behind it's gaze.

"That's okay," Africa's confident, teen-year voice replied like wrong puberty to Laura's apology.
"Phew..." Ellie was less gifted. She cleared her throat as she replaced her hands on the pre-advlt in front of her. Ellie tried to articulate herself in the most mannered ellispes of composure possible, "We just figured we'd... Come and say... Hi! Eh..." Her own steelblue pupils hovered over the firearm of the jaw-clenched female.

"Two raiders are in the forest. They got [censored] up..." continued Africa for Ellie, like remarking on barfight greenhorns. The mental swallow it took for Ellie to digest that sentence was palpable. "Roughed up, yeeaah... There's probably more of them.." Said Ellie; an apology was implicit as her voice resumed a more natural cadence. "You are here all alone... I think? And I saw how well you get along with the Mr. Handy down low... Perhaps you'd like to stay with us for a while? The village, I mean-- Well, the house, I mean. W-Whatever you're comfortable with."

A feline tilt of Ellie's head and a well-meaning smile re-framed her pretty little head, while Africa continued to stare at Laura with those black-irised receptors. Teen's mouth hung slack, gaping narrow in that way young children sometimes do. Not awe-struck, but judging. With extreme concentration.