[Erin S]

Note: this is a very rough idea and still needs quite a bit of adding on and fine tuning. If you have any ideas or want to donate some time to help shoot me a message.

In the Fallout series we see the views of many factions and groups, but what about the people considered "evil" by everyone. I'm talking about Raiders, big and small, fast and slow, sadistic and caring. Raiders are barely represented in any way in the Fallout series and I plan to change that.

This RP will follow a small clan of Raiders who dwell in the ruined hell hole once called Seattle. The RP will be a community based RP that's based around combat and survival. To stay alive in Seattle you need more than just a gun and your blade, but also a bond with your fellow warriors, a quick brain, fleet feet, and a sheer will to live. We will face more challenges than just opposing Raiders, mutants, and factions, we will also face starvation, disease, in-fighting, betrayal, radiation poisoning, and at moments, some pretty psychologically disturbing things.

You, as an RPer, will have to use your brain to work your way out of some situations and will face the very real prospect of death. Yes, you heard me, your character may die, it adds a layer of tension and makes you make more realistic decisions. However, because I don't exactly find it fair to kill off your character and boot you out of the RP you will be able to have UP TO 3 characters at a time. If one of these dies you free to make a new one. I will also ask you if it's okay if your character dies before eliminating you.

This RP has a single main plot along with a host of smaller situations. If you have an idea that you think will enrich the plot please send me a PM, I'm open to anything.

THIS IS NOT A DICTATORSHIP! What I mean by this is that if you have an idea or a problem tell me and I'll try my best to address it. We will also take a vote on just about everything, majority rules. Even if I don't like an idea but most of the rest of you do I will most likely allow it, maybe it's great and I'm just not imaginative enough.

Here's a info sheet on Seattle.

Location: Seattle

Information: When Atomic fire bathed the earth Seattle, being a large city of the USA, was one of the prime targets of the nuclear warheads. Two Vaults were located in Seattle, Vault 7 and Vault 9. Vault seven was a "control" vault, meaning that it had no experiment while Vault nine was a Vault that had the experiment of being thought of as heaven by it's dwellers and was extremely luxurious. When rumors of nuclear war started the Vaults were packed with their residents and sealed off from the outside world. The rest of the city was not do lucky, Seattle was hit with countless warheads. Hard.

However as always, humanity survived. After a few years small clans had set themselves up in the streets of Seattle and set out to scavenge the items of a past civilization. Raider groups like the Sea Hawks, Fire Born, Forgotten, Ghosts, Bag Raiders, and Fog Speakers arose and started taking large swathes of the city. For years nothing but these Raider groups along with a few survivors here and there existed. Then one day Vault Seven opened up and it's residents poured out. The dwellers arrived in a completely new world, the city of Seattle was bathed in radioactive fog and was thick with Raiders and Mutants. Acid rain fell regularly, corroding what was left of the city. Vault seven spread out and started to call themselves "Praetor", or "Guardians" in Latin. The Praetor set up a base of operations in Vault Seven and called it "The Acropolis". Praetor set up the first economy in Seattle besides barter, green backs. Using "green backs" (Pre-war money) and their Pre-war tech, Praetor soon established themselves as a trade super power. With the wealth this brought Praetor was able to hire mercenaries and form a fighting force, the "Lupus" or wolves.

But when one faction succeeded, others grew jealous. The countless Raider tribes of Seattle fell upon Praetor, looting and pillaging caravans and taking land. The Lupus fought back against these Raiders with varying success. The citizens of Praetor lived in constant fear of Raiders. To make things worse another problem arose for the city of Seattle. Disease.

Three prominent diseases appeared with strength in Seattle within seven years of each other, the Blood Plague, Wrath child, and Mirosis Beta. The trio of deadly diseases had different effects and traits, the Blood Plague was a disease thought to be related to F.E.V. in some way (it's not) that originated from the shipping sector of Seattle. The Blood Plague "turned your blood bad" as locals said, they said this because the effects of the disease was the darkening of the blood, the elimination of white blood cells, destruction of the immune system, extreme fever, excessive bleeding, and eventually, heart failure. The next, Wrath Child, was arguably the most dangerous of the three. Wrath Child was a biological weapon tested by China before the Great War to use in case of emergency on an enemy population, wreaking as much havoc as a nuclear warhead could. The weapon, however, was not fully operational by the time of the Great War and only one warhead was used, this one targeting American troops in Alaska. Wrath Child slowly spread over post-war America, eventually reaching Seattle. The disease infected people through the fluid of infected individuals and "de-evolved" the brain, turning the victim into more or less an animal. The virus also blocked stimuli (including pain) from reaching the brain. The third disease, Mirosis Beta, is a natural bacterial disease that is transmitted through the air and from the breath of the victims. Mirosis Beta attacks the Respiratory System, making the lungs fail and enslaving the throat.

These three diseases were both a blessing and a curse. On one hand it drove the Raiders back to their territory to recuperate and try to shut themselves off from them, on the other the Praetor population dropped substantially. To make things even more complicated and troubling Vault Nine opened at that time.

Vault Nine was an experiment Vault full of Christian, Catholic, and Jewish residents. The experiment of the Vault was to convince the residents that they were in heaven. The Vault was supplied with extreme luxury items, gold accents, soft music playing over speakers, and religious symbols everywhere. The AI overseer posed as God and his inner council of 10 as his "Angels". One day, however, this all ended. The Vault's reactors failed and all power except for the emergency generator powering "God". Knowing that the air filtration systems would fail and all would die of monoxide poisoning the Sentient AI ordered all to leave immediately. The "Angels" took the device that held "God" on it and lead the rest of the residents in exile out of the Vault. The dwellers now call this "The Journey of Sorrow" because they believed they were being cast down from heaven.

The Vault Nine residents settled in CenturyLink stadium which was located pretty close to their vault. The organization called themselves "The Illuminati" and told the others that they knew the secrets of God. The Illuminati renamed the CenturyLink stadium "New Heaven" and started spreading out from there. They successfully reinstalled "God" at New Heaven and once again started taking divine orders. The Illuminati set up an elite, religiously driven fighting force called the Crusaders.

The Illuminati and the Praetor immediately clashed because of religious differences, land arguments, and need to gain more supplies. The Illuminati also started a crusade against mutations, believing they were spawn of the devil. In between the two remained the Raiders of Seattle. The Raiders took advantage of the conflict and attacked both sides where they were weak. This is the history of Seattle.

Unique Features: Seattle has a few unique features including but not limited to: Radioactive Fog, Acid Rain, Blood Plague, Wrath Child, Mirosis Beta, Kuto, "Spiders", and "Lizards".

Questions, comments, concerns, random outbursts of song?

http://www.gamesas.com/topic/1419445-raider-rp-interest-check/

[Ricky Meehan]

I'm re-posting my CS, so that Fishy doesn't have to dig through the old OOC thread. Fishy, let me know if I need to change anything. Thanks.

I figured Dena has been with the Clave for a long time!

Spoiler

Name: Dena Brinkhof

Nickname (optional): Styx (either because she sticks you with a needle or helps you cross over to the River Styx... nobody knows)

Gender: Female

Age: 28

Race (Human, Ghoul, Caucasian, Asian, etc.): Caucasian/German decent

Appearance: Dena keeps her copper hair cropped rather close and wears an old soldier's cap, since she is very conscious about her cleanliness and paranoid of catching one of the horrible diseases. She stands 5' 11" feet tall, is lean and well muscled from constantly moving around and fighting for survival. She can make you feel very small, when she looks at you with raised eyebrows and sparkling emerald green eyes.

Skills: Medicine, Science and guns

Position/specialization within the gang: Doctor, (patching up the idiot members who got themselves shot or worth! =p)

Weapons (don't go overboard, and remember, ammo is a factor): .45 auto pistol, combat knife, "med kit"

Attire (what you usually wear, includes armor): old US Army cap, black cargo pants, combat boots, black t-shirt and a leather duster with a red cross painted on the back.

History/ Background: Styx has always been a practical woman, a no fuss, no nonsense kind of person. It was either do it or don't do it, but if you do it, do it right. She can't remember her parents or anything of her former life. One day she woke up and found herself being nursed back to health by Jordan Stevens, the original founder of the Clave. Styx remained with the Clave and discovered that she had a natural knack for medicine. It was as if some of the dormant knowledge came back to her over the years.

And then the Blood Plague hit and decimated the numbers of the Clave rapidly. Styx was able to save a few, by developing a rather primitive serum, which could stave off the infection for a few hours. If she had better lab equipment, she could do so much more. Right now, the best defense they had was to stay on the move and avoid plaque stricken areas.

She is known to have no patience with whiners. In this environment you just have to raise your pain threshold. If a patient complaints that she's being too rough, she will either get up and leave or smack the patient to give them really something to complain about. However, most members will tolerate her irate behavior, since she's the best damn doctor out there. If attacked, she won't hesitate to kill, damn the Hippocratic oath.

[Dark Mogul]

Thanks Agrona
I'll repost mine as well.

Spoiler

Name: Kristina Carrigan

Nickname: Kitty

Age: 22

Gender: Female

Race: Caucasian

Appearance: Kitty has chin length, sandy blonde hair with a small patch over her right ear that will not grow due to scarring. She has delicate cheek bones, light freckles on her cheeks and nose with Hazel colored eyes. Her nose is crooked from being broken several times, it sits slightly to the right, and has an obvious scar in the center of her lower lip. Kitty is skinny, 5'3" between 90 and 100 pounds, partly due to her chem habits. She has long legs for her height, scarring on her knees and a scar that goes from her belly button to the left side of her rib cage. It sinks in, as her lowest rib was broken and not set properly. Due to her chem use, she often thinks of herself as a cat with her more than adequate sneak abilities, therefore she paints three small black lines on top of each cheek like whiskers.

Skills: Explosives, Sneak, and Speech. As far the speech goes, it's not that she's a smooth talker, but rather people almost feel bad because she seems so stupid.

Position/specialization within the gang: Scavenger/scout

Weapons: Kitty uses a sling-shot made from rebar that she had welded, though it may not always kill the target, it is great for distracting enemies. Her dead father's ground down machete, the blade is now about a foot long, serrated on the top, and a sharpened hook has been cut into the end. When stuck in an enemy and yanked back out, the hook grabs the enemies internals and pulls, or rips them. Occasionally, if the proper items are found, she can make Nuka grenades, but they come very few and far between.

Attire: Kitty wears clapped together armor consisting of a small car tire cut in half that wraps around her chest and is strapped on her back via an old leather belt. She has sewn in various plates under an oversized army green jacket with a black hoodie underneath it. She has a bandoleer that secures her slingshot on her left briast, and her modified machete hangs at the bottom right side. She has a pair of camo cargo pants with tin cans cut to fit over her knees and shins. She has also made a pair of patched together leather bracers. Her combat boots are untouched, and Kitty also wears a fanny pack that holds her chems, plus a couple of gaudy rings to help cut her victims because she punches like a fly.

History/ Background: Kitty was born an addict, and because of such, is prone to tantrums and acts out. Awhile after Kitty was born, her father Jake killed her mother, and took to raising his child in the ways of a Raider/scavenger. Kitty developed much more slowly than most children, not walking until she was just about two years old from the damage done before she was even born due to her mother's chem habits. Her body, and parts of her mind have finally caught up with her age, but the damage done to her brain from years of chem abuse causes her to do strange things.

Kitty learned to sneek effectively so she would not be caught in order to keep from getting into trouble. She would sneak around most of the time causing mischief and blaming others. As she got older, Kitty developed a second love, big, fiery booms. Kitty particularly enjoyed toking on some Smooch and blowing up the many Chryslus vehicles that lay dead on the prewar landscape. Smooch didn't come cheap, so she learned to talk the price down, and or, barter with her body to get her fix. Smoking the pungent product was better than sticking Med-X and Psycho needles in her arm, which she isn't beyond doing anyways.

Kitty learned the art of seduction from an older Raider woman, Veronica that Jake had taken up with. Veronica often referred to it as, Black Widow, and Kitty soaked up all of the information. Not so much for survival, but to aid in getting what she needed to curb her withdrawals. One of the more comedic things she would do brought much laughter from the Raiders in her clan, she would get blown out of her mind, where she would then prowl around on all fours, sneaking up behind unsuspecting members and pouncing on them. She would bat at them opened handed with her fingers folded, like a kitten playing with a ball of yarn. She would mew and lick their faces bringing explosions of laughter amongst her peers. She got many a chem "entertaining" people, more if she mauled the women Raiders provocatively. The guards got her to paint, small black lines for whiskers on her cheeks before she would do it, something she thought was cute and now does all the time.

Though she is not worth a whole lot in combat, she is capable of getting into places undetected. When she has the parts to assemble a bottle cap mine, or Nuka grenade, that can be bad for their foes. Of course this all is in conjunction with her dependency on chems, if she is going into a withdrawal state, she fades into a violent conniption fit that more often than not, ends up with her injured. She's not afraid to fight, and doesn't back down easily, because of her petite size, she punches like a mosquito. The rings that she wears help little, but they do cause lacerations on her opponents face.

Despite her outlandish actions, Kitty does realize the tensity of certain situations, and adjust herself to accommodate the task put forth before her to the best of her abilities. Kitty is illiterate, and once her former gang was overrun, she simply wandered until she fell in with The Clave gang. she was taken in and her skills as a scavenger and scout secured her a position inside the clan.

[Abel Vazquez]

Aye, thanks. I guess I'll re-post mine too than.

Spoiler

Name: Harry Harned

Nickname: Hatchet

Gender: Male

Race: Human, Caucasian.

Age: 36

http://images3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120914003752/sonsofanarchy/images/e/e4/Opie_2012_Promo.jpg Harry is a rather large man, standing at about six foot four inches in stature; this isn't the only thing that makes him big though, he is also reasonably muscular and has enough body fat that he looks like a formidable foe for anyone in hand to hand combat. He looks fairly messy and rather hardened to the brutal post apocalyptic world, having long dark brown messy hair and a long survivalists beard. His eyes are of a hazel colour and his skin is pale in comparison to most. He has numerous scars over his chest, stomach and back from fights over the years and a large Anarchy symbol tattooed onto his back.

Clothing/Armour: Harry wears two leather jackets, one plain black long sleeved one and another no sleeved old biker style one with a patch on the back. The patch is an old Anarchy symbol showing that the jacket once belonged to a pre-war biker. There is a few more patches on the front, one reading Sergeant-at-Arms and another reading Man of Chaos. Underneath these jackets Harry wears a black t-shirt and a plain white tank top. Harry wears baggy black jeans which are held up by an old belt and are often layered in dust or dirt. To finish he wears old biker boots which are more often than not caked in the same.

Weapons: http://img833.imageshack.us/img833/1839/benellim4super90.jpg kept in a strap over his shoulder and a http://images.wikia.com/walkingdead/images/archive/c/cf/20120121210315!Hatchet.jpg kept in a modified sheath on his hip.

Skills: Harry is skilled with his shotgun, knowing how to use, wield and clean in effectively. This is no where near as important as his skill with his trusty hatchet though, the shotgun is a nuisance to feed ammo, being both expensive and scarce and making his skill of wielding his hatchet in battle of vital importance. Harry can use the hatchet a number of ways, but mostly to maim or kill. The big man can easily put the hatchet deep inside an opponents skull if quick enough. Last but definitely not least Harry is an experienced survivor, years of being more or less a lone wolf have made him highly adaptive to his surroundings, he's always on the lookout for anything of value and can often turn a dangerous situation to his advantage.

Personality: Harry is emotionally cold to most people but can still hold a decent and civil enough conversation. He respects those who can earn the privilege of having and keeping their life, getting on well with those he deems to be true warriors and survivalists. Harry is ruthless to most people unless they have either truly gained his respect or he considers them too weak to fight their own battles. Overall Harry is just a survivor with nothing left to lose, he will fight and die to survive but his deepest hidden desire is to fight with a brother in arms again. Someone he trusts as much as he did his father, someone he would kill and die for and somebody he can place above his deepest goal of survival. Harry also has a deep but hidden fear of the plagues, he much prefers the thought a violent death in battle to death via one of them and will do whatever he feels necessary to keep himself from risk of catching any of them.

Role in the The Clave: Scavenger/Warrior

History: Harry was raised a survivor from the start, his father being a born loner himself he quickly decided he didn't want his only son to be corrupted by the wars and crimes of the numerous Seattle factions and tribes from too early in his life. He wanted his legacy's rise to become a killer and warrior to be uninfluenced by all of that corrupted savagery and instead decided from the time Harry was seven that he would raise the young boy on the road.

It was a hard life for anyone, never mind a child, when you were a traveler like Harry and his father were you had no affiliations and no outside protection. They had to rely on each other constantly, always trying to avoid raider tribes or roaming mutants, and sometimes they grew so hungry and so desperate they had no choice but to ambush these men and monsters, needing their supplies to save their own lives. His father had always told him it was dangerous, but no matter what it was better to die in battle than from starvation. In other words it was better to die trying to save your life then to die giving it up because you were too cowardly to fight for it.

In one way or another his fathers plan worked, he grew up with very little other human contact but that of his father and the people he spoke to on the rare occasions they would wander into settlements for supplies and to sell what they had scavenged. This heavily limited contact made Harry even more dependent on himself and his father. He was a warrior and a true survivalist by the time he was nineteen, before he even truly knew what he had been expertly molded into himself. Now old and skilled enough to help his father in many more ways, the young man thought little of killing, it was all he had known and would ever know according to his father so he had better just get used to it. Those were near enough his fathers exact words when an eight year old Harry asked him why they had to kill a man who had been begging for his life all those years ago, and now aged twenty one Harry had gotten used to it. He had killed many times and many things in many different ways. He had also found his beloved hatchet by this time, and the boy who had now grown taller than his father and was large in most aspects could kill two to three humans in a matter of seconds with the small but deadly tool.

The two men had made quite a bit of money over the years but it never really lasted, life on the road was expensive. Between money for weapon repairs, money for ammo, money for food, money for doctors and medicine and then money left over for general supplies the caps they did have left over never lasted all that long, quickly being lost to one of those things. Despite them never being rich his father did accomplish what he had set out to do with his only son. Harry did become a great warrior, an expert killer and a true survivalist. Now at the age of twenty four Harry was a man and his father was getting to be an old man; something Harry had noticed. He began to bug his extremely stubborn father about that fact. His fathers replies to his pleas that his job was done now and he should now settle into one of the settlements and take it easy were met with pure stubbornness; his father insisted that he lived, breathed and killed out here in the waste. He would die out here too.

This saddened Harry a lot for a long while, after all his father had given him over the years he would never truly be able to give anything back in return, but there was little he could do but keep on surviving, keep looting, keep killing and keep being the warrior his father had raised and wanted him to be. This was the best he could do to repay the man that had made him the warrior he was.

His father didn't last too much longer, they had kept on surviving out in what his father called the pure world, where people killed people because they had to survive, not because it was something some man they didn't even know had commanded them to. Yeah, his father had gone down the way he had always wanted to and said he would; shedding his enemies blood. They had been ambushed while scavenging an old ruin and cornered by a large group of raiders.

Having already used all of their ammo the two men went for a last stand with their hatchet and hammer. Hacking, slashing, bashing and crushing their way to killing their foes. Harry's hatchet made quick work of the ones that fell upon him, heads were hacked off, arms were hacked into and skulls were crushed. The two warriors were pulverizing their enemies, but just as it looked like they might make it out of the ambush a raider pulled a .38 Revolver, letting off a fatal shot that pierced Harry's fathers torso and left him panting on the ground; this pushed Harry to the edge, his adrenaline already pumping he flew into a blood and anguish fueled rage, launching his hatchet at the raider holding the .38, sinking the tool deep into the raiders torso Harry grabbed his fathers sledgehammer and set upon the others, his strength and adrenaline making him wield the huge weapon as easily as a golf club.

By the time an exhausted Harry dropped the hammer and retrieved his hatchet and the .38 Revolver his father had turned ghostly pale. Harry thought about picking the elder man up and hauling him to a doctor but the nearest settlement was twelve miles away and they were deep in bandit country. His father wouldn't have survived the journey anyway, the .38 had pierced his lung, making his breathing near impossible. Harry took his fathers hand and stared into the cold eyes of the only man he had ever truly known or loved. As his fathers eyes faded the fire in Harry's eyes burned once again, the rage coming back. He set off with the scavenged weapons and killed as many raiders as he could that night, by the morning his rage wasn't sated at all.

Years passed and Harry did what he could to honor his father while surviving but he had now left the hunter/scavenger lifestyle, now hanging around the settlements and taking on jobs as a mercenary. He carried on like this for a few years, liking the money and respect that came with it. It wasn't to last though, a year or so of him working in this way passed before the three dreaded and terrible diseases fell upon the land, killing many, for a short time Harry was glad his father had gone out the way he did, this was no way for a warrior to die. Harry had no bigger fear than the diseases, he decided right then he wouldn't die via them and set off into the waste without a word to anyone, thinking this would be the best time there was going to be to get himself away from all settlements and reduce his chances of getting either of the three diseases. It did for a long while, until finally people began having the same idea as him, the number of raiders increased ten fold, too many for even Harry to survive out there in the wastes of Seattle alone.

It was this that made him come up with his new plan; find a group of small but skilled survivors. It was this new plan that made the man head towards the last known location of the tribe known as The Clave. It took a little while for them to trust him, but eventually they did, and Harry has made himself as valuable a hunter and warrior to the tribe as possible in the last couple of years.