George sat at his seat, looking at the group of people that had just walked in. George listened to the man in the suit, as he exsplained what the job would be.

Finding an alien spaceship... Huh wonder if he's talking about that crash over near the land bridge to the former Soviet Union and China?

George looked at the woman who followed in behind the man who seemed to be another "Saint", she reminded him of his wife, her features were similar to her, but the hair was a dirty blonde and was down. The group of people all took their seats, as the man in the suit sat there smiling at the group. George looked at the "Saint", that had threatened the man with his life (Blide).

"Hay wise guy, how long you been out in the wasteland? Because I've been wandering around wasteland doing odds and end jobs for quite sometime, and I've learned over that time a man like you may act tough, but your really just scared of what might happen to you the next day or even the next hour. So like I said, how long you been out here in the wasteland?".

George leaned back in his seat, folding his arms behind his head, stairing at the man...

The man in the suit said, "Now, remember: Anything of value that you find at the crash site is to be returned to me. You may bring other people with you, if you so choose. That is all."

* * *

As the figure threw off its robe, Nathan almost squealed at the deathclaw standing before him.

Y'know, that actually explains quite a lot...

It seemed that the deathclaw had no intention of hurting him, so he examined the wound. "Well, I'll see what I can do." He pulled a pair of stimpaks out from his labcoat. "Hold still." He injected them into the wound, which immediately healed, leaving a rather large scar, but nothing else.

"Okay, try not to cut yourself there for a day or two, and it'll be fine."

Key decided to step out of the back room, slightly worried about the ghoul and the man she walked into fighting.

This could get violent...

She walked into the main room of the bar and took a beer for herself under the scowling eye of the bar owner. She sat at a table nearest the backdoor in a desperate attempt to overhear the conversation. She opened the beer and pocketed the cap.

Edit: Doesn't matter :read:

Thik-Talk threw the cloak back on and opened the door, holding the door for the doctor...
"Tha-k you Dok-tor, I shall occumpany you until my dept is paid." He gestures with his arm.
"Lead the way Dok-tor, I sup-oce you hav question... I will answer then at a more convin-yent time.

"I've been out in the wastes for about 2-3 years here in Alaska" said Blide and left the room heading for the common house to get some sleep

Keleigh watched Blide as he walked away from the back door. After he exited the bar she took a gulp from the bottle in her hand and leaned against the wall, pulling her leather jacket around her tighter. She listened a bit more and thought the idea of aliens was rediculous. She downed the beer and stood up.

"Don't give the gentleman in there anymore to drink..." She said with a smirk to the bartender.

Zipping up her jacket she headed outside and to the common house. She greeted the usual users of the common house, sat on her usual bunk and removed the jacket.

Maybe I shouldn't have quit... She shrugged and reached into her jacket which now lay next to her and pulled out another beer. [censored] it.

She backed up and sat with her legs dangling over the edge on the bunk, drink in hand.

As Bjorn finished his second glass of scotch, he noticed a peculiar note on the bulletin. It read:
Need caps? Looking for work? We need seasoned adventurers for an undisclosed extended task. 1000 caps per person. Meet us in the back room.

1000 caps? Not bad. I better check it out.

He entered the back room and was briefed on the task.
"Find an alien crashsite? You've gotta be [censored]ting me!" Bjorn proclaimed, almost losing the cigarette in his mouth. "You know what? [censored] it. Whatever, I'll do it. I'll probably encounter something more REAL and exciting in my search". He stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray on the table and exited the bar.

As he came outside, he pulled up his gasmask and strapped it on.
Not worth exposing myself to this cold, unless it's for a smoke.
He noticed the ghoul and the large, robed figure who had come out of the back room earlier. Figuring they too had set out to find the "alien crashsite", he decided to follow them.
They could prove to be good company... Or easy loot. Either way, I win! He chucklede beneath the metallic mask, letting out an electric and distorted voice.

George got up and walked out of the room, as the man in the suit finished talking. George left the bar, as he walked over to the nearest trading shop.

Wonder if they'll trade with me?

George walked in and looked around for a bit.Tthere was all sorts of junk, old T.V. sets, pool cue's, different types of clothing and armor, george looked around for a bit longer, before he approached a old man standing at a counter.

"Excuse me sir, I'd like to trade some yao guai meat?", the man looked up at the ghoul removing his old spectacles.

"How much you got?", george layed his sack onto the counter untying the string at the top.

"I've got about 9 lbs of the meat, I'll give it to you... Oh lets say 6 caps, or if not, I'll be willing to take some ammuntion, any non-bend or dented 30.06 rounds should do it!".

The man walked into the back room, while george leaned down at the counter popping a toe back into place. Even a ghoul has some sort of feeling in his toe's. The man walked out with a small bag of 30.06 rounds in it.

"Here you go, I've only got 10 rounds that were'nt bent or had any dents. And for the rest, here's 24 caps. Have a nice day".

"Thanks, you too".

George walked out, placing the caps into his jacket pocket inside.

I think I'll go get another drink, george thought walking back into the bar. George sat back at his stool, and waved to the bartender.

"Bar-keep, I'll have a beer!", george said in his gruff raspy voice.

The bartender knoded and grabbed him a "fresh" beer. "Thanks!", george said throwing only 8 caps to the bartender.

"I think thats what you diserve for this stuff you call a beer!", george looked at the bartender, who seemed insulted by the remark, and from being short changed. George pulled his .45 Colt out from his waist and layed it on the table, with the barrel pointing to the bartender...

OCC: Just wondering if this Rp is going any where soon?

Nathan walked downstairs. Remembering the offer of 1000 caps, he decided to check it out. "Follow me," he said to Thik-Talk, and entered the back room. The man in the suit sighed and said, "Go ask the ghoul over there. He can help you."

And speaking of ghouls...

As Nathan walked back in, the bartender pulled a shotgun from under the counter, aiming it square at George's head. "Try me." The bartender sneered at George.

Targeting...
...Jim Henson, male human...
...male ghoul, name unknown...
...calculating environmental factors...

Nathan grabbed his plasma pistol out from his labcoat and aimed at the bartender. "Jim, if you shoot, I'll blow your [censored] head off."

...82% chance of victory.

((We'll get going after this scene. It's just kind of hard to ignore a PC picking a fight with the bartender.))

George snickered at the bartender, holding the shotgun.

"I looove Hard A** bartenders, they think just because they have a big gun, they can push the patrons around", george quickly looked over, as a man in a doctors coat pulled out a plasma pistol, george then returned his attension back to the bartender.

"I think your a little out gunned here bar-keep, so why dont you just put that gun away and get back to refreshing the other patrons drinks", george said in his gruff raspy voice, and reaching for his .45 Colt, placing it back into his coat...

OCC: Lets get going then.

Hi Is it to late to join, I want to hunt aliens with people and ghouls here's my char.

Brett Hawking
Age; 29
Occupation: Brett is a traveler and collector of rare items, he is also not opposed to do a job or two for the right amount of caps,

Skills: he is good with machines and firearms of all kinds as well as being proficient with energy weapons, he is charismatic, and has great endurance and is an excellent shot,
He beliefs in making your own luck.

Appearance; about 6'5 average build, hair is graying before his time and a mustache, hazel eyes.

Equipment/weapons; x9 stimpacks, x6 radaways, x4 radx, x1 bottle 1921 chardonnay wine, various manuscripts of value only to those who know what they are, pre-war Alaskan atlas, x7 MRE's (Meals Ready To Eat), a stealth boy, a .357 magnum x43 rounds ammo, and a modified laser rifle, with 128 charge packs, x5 frag grenades. And various equipment to sell in a large duffle

Clothing; heavy duty trench coat which easily hides his handgun, a wool cap, goggles, and a Kevlar vest.

Background: Brett is originally from a semi peaceful post war town in Massachusetts, he would often leave in search of high profile pre war items to sell in order to sustain a high priced living. It was after returning from one of these scavenging trips that he found his home town completely destroyed and all inhabitants murdered by super mutants, It was because of this that he set of to find his fortune in the west, his travels of 5 years eventually brought him through California and Canada and finally into Alaska.

********************************************************************************


Brett enters the bar carrying his duffle bag packed to the brim with items he took from a police station, intent on sleeping the rest of the night in the room he has rented from the bar tender, he notices the "disagreement between the bar-tender Dr. Nathan and the Ghoul: "damn it looks like im not going to get any sleep tonight, look at all these people you'd think you were in a bar in New Reno, I wonder why all these people are in the bar at this time of the night,?" he then notices the new ad on the board, "well beats the hell out of what Im doing right now, and hell I might just get to pick some things of interest while im out there."

After enquiring with the man in the back; "aliens! well thats not actually the most absurd thing someones asked me to do. and I do recal reading something about several sightings of aliens all over the place right before the great war. I guess I should catch up with the other members"

"Hey uhh ghoul? mind if I ask you about when we plan to leave? my names brett by the way": He hands the bartender 15 caps for a bottle of scotch.

George is absorbed by his thoughts and pays no attention to Brett.

Brett: Hey anyone else in here willing to talk to me about where we are meeting up?

((Well, I think we're full now. No more people. Anyone who's already posted a sheet is fine.))

Jim looked nervously at the plasma pistol aimed at his head. He put down the shotgun, gave George a defeated look and said, "Will that be all, sir?"

Target pacified.
Current objective: Locate crash site.

Nathan put away the plasma pistol. "All right people, let's get moving. If you have anything you need to do, do it now."

((In other words, post what you do before leaving along with anything else.))

* * *

The group traveled across the irradiated Alaskan tundra. The dirty snow was about six inches thick in this area, but had stopped falling, thankfully. Still no sign of the crash sight.

Nathan scanned the area for signs of activity, not giving a second thought to the cold. This was ridiculous. Aliens? A crash site? Impossible. Highly improbable, at the very least. How were they supposed to--

The radio commlink in Nathan's labcoat started up. (If anyone else has a radio, it starts as well.) At first, it was static, but soon a frantic voice speaking in an unintelligible language could be heard, interrupted only by bursts of static.

"Holy [censored], I've never heard anything like this before!" Nathan looked around. "Alright everyone, follow that signal!"

* * *

The group came to the edge of a large crater. At the bottom was a crashed disk-shaped object that clearly came from the sky. Part of the disk had been broken off by a loose boulder, leaving an opening in the side.

As the group approached the ship, bodies littered the ground. They were covered in battered power armor, with various energy weapons still in their hands. The armor had been damaged by these same weapons, and the scattered footprints in the snow clearly indicated a fight. The burns were still warm...

((Just so you know, about half of the bodies are in BoS armor, the others have Enclave armor.))

Brett upon seeing the crash site: "HOLY [censored]! I have to confess I did not expect to actually find something, well by the look of things I'd say someone else has gotten here before us" a sarcastic grin appears on his face. "looks like there's some pretty good equipment down there, dibs on the enclave's gear." Brett proceeds carefully into the crater, and begins to search one of the enclave corpse.

George turned around to the doctor, and walked out the bar with him and the tall guy. As they walked george was kind of excited to find another crash site.

Damn I wonder what these alien a**holes are doing here again?

George contiued to walk through the radiated dirt "snow" while the sudden sound of his small crystal radio he moddified, began to crackle to life with static.

What kind of radio signal would be out here, in a hell hole?

The sound of the others regular radio's began to start up also, when suddenly a strange but familiar sounding voice, began to break through the static. George looked at the doctor, who was messing with his radio.

"Hay doc. I've heard this "Language before, near former Kentucky and Montana... We're close!", george said excited in his gruff raspy voice.

George and the rest contiued to follow the strange radio signal, as they suddenly saw the crash site. It was covered with a few Brotherhood Paladins and Knights, along with some Enclave soldiers as well. George could'nt smell anything very well, but the faint smell of a fresh battle entered his nostrils.

"I've seen stuff like this.."

Before george could finish, the man who had entered the bar, and joined the group late, walked over to one of dead enclave soldiers, and began to loot the body of its armor and weapons.

"HAY A**HOLE, DONT JUST START GRABBING S***!", yelled george while he unslung his Springfield from his back, holding it down across his belly.

"It could be rigged or something, this whole place could be rigged, so dont start grabbing s***, I dont want to get blown up!", george walked over to the doctor, who was standing at the edge of the crater along with the others.

"What should we do doc?", geoge said in his gruff raspy voice...

"We shoo-d be car-ful from thee-s on..." Thik-Talk pulled off the cloak...
The rest of the group recoiled as the large figure was revealed to be a deathclaw...
Unlike the deathclaws of the southern states who where orange in colour with dark brown markings; Thik-Talk was pure white with grey markings...
His tail was almost three meters in length, he was equally as tall... He had a very muscular build with huge claws, a lizard forked tounge whipped in and out of his mouth past his large teeth...
"On the air I kan taste death..."

He lead the way to the ship where he carefully began to dig off the fresh snow, after a couple of minuits he had found a large door....
"I hav made a dis-kovery" Resembling that of a VaultTec interior door of the Vaults Thik-Talk was unsure about how to open it and thus stepped back to allow the other group members to have a look.
"Try to not may-k noise"

Brett backs off from the body he was searching and looks at the deathclaw standing next to the door: he addreses him in a hushed tone "A talking deathclaw! You're going to have to tell me how that happened sometime." Brett begins to carefully scour the imediate area with a gieger counter: "Im picking up some slight radiation near the entrance of the space craft." Brett searches the area surounding the entrance to the craft for any riged traps: after finding nothing: "I think I'ts all clear!".

Bjorn had followed the steady-growing group through the alaskan wilds. Now they had reached a large crater made by some disk-shaped vehicle, which was littered with corpses. He hid behind a spot of vegetation near the crater, observing the whole situation.
Alien crash site, hah! Judging on the equipment on those corpses, it looks like something from the old military.

Suddenly, throught the red glass of his mask, he noticed the large figure dropping his robes, revealing his beastly nature.
What the f***!? A deathclaw? A talking one even? Sh**, I guess this could prove to be interesting after all.
Hmh, I better go introduce myself.
After making sure his trusty fireaxe was at his side and that a frag grenade was placed in his belt for quick usage, he started walking towards the crater.

OOC: (Damn. Now I have to think of a reason to follow you lot =P)

After her short sleep, Keleigh walked out of the common house. Still a bit tired and cold. She watched the strange group of travelers exit the town and head off together. Shortly after another person, clad in a gas mask and coat had followed out after the the group. She sighed and sat down on a small fence.

What am I going to do now...? She thought. No job... Little money...

A piece of paper, caught by the wind fluttered past her. She watched it for a while, thinking. As the wind changed the note came back and clung to her leg. She lifted her leg and tugged the paper free and looked at it. It was the notice about the meeting the group attended. The '1000 Caps' caught her eye and she bit her lip, thinking.

Get the money to live or die trying... A grim smile played across her face. She pulled her jacket on from inside the common house and grabbed as much food and drink as she could and hurried out of town. She could not see the main group but followed the man in the gas mask.

"Ooh... this can't be good." Nathan looked around at the dead bodies. Clearly, some of them were Brotherhood of Steel knights. The others... well, Nathan had heard the rumors, but he thought that the Enclave had been destroyed a while ago. Looks like I was wrong.

As the deathclaw cast off his cloak, inducing reactions of surprise in the rest of the group, Nathan said, "Meh. I suspect we'll be seeing a lot more weird [censored] soon."

He approached the crash site. There were trace amounts of radiation, but not enough to cause any permanent harm. Just as he was examining the door...

"Stop right there, civilians!" A soldier in power armor stood behind them, brandishing a rather large minigun. The style and symbols on his armor marked him as a Brotherhood of Steel paladin, to anyone familiar with the organization, at least. "Identify yourselves."

George walked down to the crater, as the figure in the cloak showed himself, as a deathclaw. George could only stand there some what stunned, but more interested in the crash site. The radiation felt good to george, it gave him strength that he had'nt felt in awhile.

"S***, wonder what this could be?", george grabbed a small piece of metal, from the space craft, and looked at it curiously.

Wonder what kind of metal this is? george thought as he placed it in his bag.

George stood around with the rest of the group, as he studied the the wreckage. Suddenly a voice came from behind him, he quickly turned around unslinging his Springfield and pointing it at the man with the minigun.

F***ing S***, a Paladin!

George stood in the crater, some what nervous. He knew that the Brotherhood did'nt take kindly to ghouls, even the one's who were just trying to survive, like george. George decided to take a step forward, still holding his springfield towards the paladin.

"I'm george, what are you doing here, were these your brother's?", george said in his gruff raspy voice...

The large deathclaw shrunk into the snow as he heard the very distinct sound of the Paladins voice through the power armour audio box...
It was quite amazing that such a huge creature, even though his hide matched the colour of the snow, could disapear so easily and so quickly.

"I must not be seen, ghoul if you thin-k they do not lie-k your k-ind you should try being one of my type."

Brett turns to face the paladin, hearing the familiar sound of a power armor voice box: "Paladin my name is Brett, you're quite out of the way of the lost hills bunker, I assume that you're not here for rustic scenery."

Brett keeps his hand on his revolver not overly quick to let down his guard.