Quick Story Description:

Unlike Pittsburgh, the Capital Wasteland, or most other places, Colorado was ravaged in it's own way.
Colorado became a frozen wasteland of death and survival. So why would anyone live here? Colorado was known
for a variety of things: Safety, Army bases, and mostly; snow. Snow. Because of the snow cycle, fresh water forced
it's way back into nature. So the strong and smart flocked to the newly named "Snow Cap". But it's harsh winters,
mutated animals, and deep, dark secrets jeprodize most chance of survival. This is a tale of those who were
strong enough to survive, and their battle. The battle, between good, and evil.

This is a fanfic I will be writing about the harsh Snow Cap's Survivors. I would like point out,
this story is based around a large group of characters, and will transfer between them. They all connect in different ways.
There really is no main character, but some may be more important then others. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter One: Caveman

The caveman lied inside the cave. His body shivered, but his mind was in a coma of sleep.
The snow glaze from the last night was tickled by the floating sinders of the fire. The rocky ceiling sheilded the
fire, while it's smoke was whisked out the entrance. The snow outside had thinned out, and as the day turned,
it reflected the sunlight brightly into the cave. The caveman rolled over to avoid the glare, but it soon filled the cave
and he was forced to forget sleep.

A sharp chill shot through his legs as he awoke. He pulled himself towards the fire, trying to warm himself. It did
little, as the fire was burning itself out. The caveman pulled his clothes towards him. An old pair of snow pants,
a wind breaker, a pair of wool socks. He wore these clothes every day, and washed them in the snow every night.
Over his socks, he slipped on black, padded snow boots. In the white, he appeared a dark, faded figure.

A taste of blood filled his breath, of yesterday's meal. "What had I eaten yesterday?" "What did I do yesterday?"
"Was I even here yesterday?"

The caveman clutched his head, inhaling the air of the cold day. His sanity was taking a
vibrant turn. Yesterday, what HAD he eaten? - The caveman thought. The blood on his breath was heavy and sweet.
Not like an animals. Too rare, too precious. Too equal.

As the caveman pondered, a voice came from outside.

"Hello? I smell the smoke. Is anyone alive here?" The unfamiliar voice called.

The caveman answered slowly and quietly. "In here."

The voice climbed into the cave. His beard was neatly trimmed, unlike the cave dwellers.

"Sorry to intrude. It must be 40 below out there." The man shivered. He wore many layers, topped with a blue parka,
and still froze in the cold.

"Is ok. You can take this cave. I must keep going."

"Ahh, but I must reward your hospitatility. Here, sit with me by the fire." The man sat by the embers and patted the ground.

"The fire won't last much longer." The caveman argued. The newcomer made him nervous, sensitive.

"Nonsense. I have dry wood in my coat. Let us stay warm for awhile longer" The man smiled.

The cave dweller opened his mouth, but had no reply. He sat quietly, and remained silent.

"What's your name then?"

"Name?" The Caveman pondered. He hadn't needed it for a long time.

"You've gotta have a name!" The man joked, poking the flame with a thin stick. "I mean, who doesn't"

The caveman sat in silence, head in his hands. After awhile, the newcommer began to worry. When the man
opened his mouth to speak, it was the Caveman's voice that started talking.

"Geofrey.. Black... I'm from the remains of denver. I had a family there." He whispered.

The man understood by the word "had". He stood up, and offered his hand to the caveman.

"Your right, no reason to stay here. Why don't we stick together, you and I, I know of a place we can go."

Geofrey took his hand and stood up. The two left the smokey cave, leaving the fire behind. They began to trudge through
the snow slowly. The man occasionally speaking of his life and journey, just to entertain the caveman. The dark figure
trudged onward, casting a vibrant image amongst the white snow. His partner, in blue, casted none.




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

I hope you enjoyed the first installment. I know it didn't explain much at all, but more is to come.
The next chapter will most likely detail a different character. Please do rate. I plan on trying to make every chapter
better then the last.

Oh this looks good :goodjob:

I've read my fair share of fan-fics and this one has started much better than most. Very original idea too. I'll make a mental note of this one and keep an eye on it.

Thank you. I'll type up the next chapter soon.

Chapter 2: The Trash of the Trashland

"Sure it will work?"

"I built the heater, I can make it explode."

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

"Sheriff, what could we have possibly done to deservere Exile?" Jt asked, mostly
to be a [censored]. He knew what he had done. Lane stood next to him, a distinct dislike
for the situation spread over his frowning face.

"Last night, the good doctor woke up to yelling outside his window. You know what he found?"
The Sheriff poked her shotgun into JT's chest, trying to take away his confidence.
"He saw you two, gun's smoking, standing over a citizens body. With two bullet holes. In his head."

Jt frowned. That was exactly what he had done, with exact proof. Lane looked to him, a pleading look
now over his face. Lane shouldn't have been pulled in to this - JT thought.

"Sheriff, I have no idea what your talking about. Besides, exiling us would be a major mistake."
Jt stood his ground, standing a few inches taller then the sheriff.

The sheriff raise her eyebrows, and smiled confidentaly. She had run this town longer then
Lane and Jt had been there. All connections Jt had with the town were no where near as strong as her's.
"The mistake was what you did. Now, we're all thankful for what you did to keep us alive, but killing
off your fellow citizen? Might has well of never come."

"No! Without our help, this town would not be here today!" Lane yelled. He pulled his hands through
his slick hair.

"Too. Bad." The sheriff smirked. She held her gun up, and pointed towards the door to the town.
The two men turned to leave, and as the sheriff was closing the gate behind them, she smirked again.

"People like you are the Trash of the Trashland."

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

The town of New Guffy had been built in the remains of an old mountain town. The town was very selective
on who it did and didn't let in. The reason why was it's floor. The town was originally formed by Jane Flow
and Doctor Gregory Red. However, it was small and near useless then. There were only a few small buildings,
and a barbed wire fence. One day, the town recieved two travelers. John Travis and his assitant Lane Tyrs,
came promising heat. A way to keep the snow off the ground.

After 2 years, the heater had been built. Jt had brought exactly what he had promised, through labor
and hard work. The heater was 200 pipeline fires powered by a daily pound of wood. Above this pipeline was
three layers of metal, two layers of rocks, and a layer of wood. They put fresh soil over all of this.

Through all the layers, the heat was still enough to melt snow and allow crop growth. They became
one of the first towns in Colorado to have heating, and it was built by two men.

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

That was why Jt was so angry. He and Lane had put a lot into the town, and then they
were exiled.

So he had rigged a special charge that would flush the pipe system, and cause an explosion of the town.

Before they set it off, Lane snuck into town in the dead of night. He broke into the sheriff's house.
He dragged her, bound and gagged, outside of the range of the explosion. Jt was waiting at the fuel pipe
that led to the whole supply tank of the pipeline.

"Well if it isn't Calamity Jane! Ready to see all three of our work's go to waste?" He mocked.

Jane kicked her legs, trying to escape from her ropes. But she had no chance. Lane had
tied her many times over, making sure she couldn't move. Jt picked up their makeshift charge, and
dropped it into the hungry pipeline.

New Guffy became a fireball.

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

Jane kicked and screamed under her ropes. Jt laughed.

"Well, I believe this is where we bid our farewells."

"You know what this mountain is full of dear sheriff?" Lane asked, snickering a little himself.

"Rad-Fangs. Wolves."

And with that, Lane and Jt began their monumental walk away. And they left Jane, for the Rad-Fangs.

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

Luckily, off in the distance, another person heard her screams.

cool bro. This seems kinda like a hard RP to pull off but you got it so far

It's not an rp. But thank you.

I realize this may be a bit hard to pull off, but i hope to keep doing it well.

I also like it. Have you wrote before? It defiantly seems so.

I've tried and failed a lot.

Chapter 3: Snow Horse

Thick layers of snow made the Snow Horse hard to pedal up a steep mountain.
Ofcourse, it's rare the layers would not be thick. But Flick still felt a burden
on his well weathered ankles.

Swear words would occasionally leave his mouth, under his breath. atlast, he mounted the top
of the mountain. The snow tires would do nothing at this point. But the point of the
Snow horse was not to bike. It was to ski. Flick pulled his tires up, allowing the Bike's
own four skis to touch ground.

With a kick, Flick was off. Riding the Snowhorse was hard, tiring and dangerous, but Flick
had traversed each mountain ten to twenty times. He was tough, determined, and lived for the
danger of Ski-Biking. His yells of enjoyment carried far through the night air.

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

After the great war, very few jobs were needed anymore. Most people's job became useless.
Dentist? No time for Cavities. Banker? Money meant very little anymore.

Unless you were Strong, intelligent, or had something someone else didn't, you weren't
an asset to the new world. Even after 200 years, the demand for un-specialized jobs was slim,
if any.

Flick had never been strong. He was quite lanky infact. He was smart, but didn't know his science
or math. But growing up in Post War Colorado, he had once thing very few others had. Before the
war, Colorado was known for it's athletes. Mainly snow sports, but biking was prevelent aswell.
Flick had modified a bike to have large snow tires, and a set of four cross-country skis.

One thing that everyone wanted in the Post-Apocalyptic was information. Whether
it be the weather, locations of settlements, or where good scavenging could be, Flick
was there to supply it. For a price.

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

"What have you got to tell me?" Flick's latest client clapped, rubbing his hands together
to conserve warmth. Traversing the mountains on foot was cold and dangerous, especially
at night, but information from Flick was renown everywhere in Snowcap. Almost everyone
had met him atleast once.

"Well ol' buddy, what have you got for your humble messenger?" Flick smiled, bowing
cometically to his customer.

A grumble from the man was heard well by Flick, who kept smirking. The client gave Flick a small
bag. Flick peeked inside, making sure it was the agreed payment. It was indeed, ammo
and canned beef. Flick flailed his legs in excitement, confident in his authority with the
frustrated man. Let him wait. I'm in no hurry!- Flick thought.

"Ok then Duke. The only standing buildings on your route are an old "Mountain INN", an ol' drug store,
and a broken down car dealer with ED's on the front. I would reccomend waiting til spring to travel far.
You know how hard these Winter weathers are." Flick warned.

"Oy. Thanks anyway mate." Duke began his walk back to shelter. He hadn't wanted that information. His wife
lived farther to the east, and he needed to travel home.

Flick frowned, trying not to allow sympathy for his client. He failed.

"Duke. You can stay with me at the hotel until it's light out. It's just a bike's ride away."

Duke smiled. Flick put his arm around the freezing traveler, and led him over to the Snowhorse.

After all, I need the company- Flick confided in himself.

But just then, the Duo heard a yell coming from the bottom of the mountain.

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

Flick carried the passed out women on his shoulder back to the horse. She had fallen asleep
from exhaustion, and would die out in the cold. Something cold dug into his neck. When Flick looked,
he saw it was a badge.



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

_______________________________________

I would have to say this is my favorite chapter so far. I have a lot of good ideas for flick.
Please read and tell me what you think. Sorry that i have to spend every chapter introducing a different character.
The next chapter won't introduce a new one. it will continue on another one. I have to make sure that there is somewhere for the current characters to go
off of.

I don't want to be a dike and bump this back up without another chapter,
but I would really like to know if I should continue it or scrap this project?

Yeah keep writing man! It's not very busy at this time for everyone to post, so don't worry about nobody commenting, they'll comment in time .

Ok then, I'll write a new chapter later today. Thank you.

Biggest problem I've had when writting is getting rid of all the sentences begining with the same word (He, The, They, etc.). It requires a little creativity sometimes:

The Paladin grabbed his sidearm, ready to shoot the Raider.

After a while, it get repetative and starts to sound more like a list then a Story:

Grabbing his sidearm, Paladin Steele took steady aim at the lone raider, ready to end his life with the pull of its trigger.

Just a thought as I read through the story. It it still very enjoyable.

Not that I'm critiizing, but just be wary of the "Chauncer" effect. I have this problem a lot. (Chauncer started writting the cantebery tales, but died before he could finish his Epic. If you get too diverse, there might not be enough paper to write your story on.) I suffer from this alot. At one point, I was writting 14 seperate stories. I recently put all but the Fallout line on hold, but I still have no les than 30 pages per story. Fallout has grown exponetially since I stopped the other ones.

Ok, thank you?
As for the Chaucer effect, the story connects into one big story eventually.
------------------------


Chapter Four: Lead Fire

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

Geofrey Black and Sean Tow held every breath that they had, making as little movements as possible.

The wall of shotguns around them circled, always moving. Every demand the wall made slowly pulled at
Geofrey and Sean. No sound left them, and they kept their arms at their sides.

"Whatever you have in your backpacks, we want." Part of the wall yelled.
"And give us what's in your pockets and on your belts too." Another part commanded.

Sean grabbed for the pistol on his right leg. When his hand grabbed it, he felt it's cool
metal under his hand. But as he tried to pull it out of it's pocket, another hand stopped him.

"It's no good. One shot won't do anything to them." The caveman grunted.

"Hey! what are you muttering about?" One of the shotgun holders yelled.

The caveman opened his mouth to speak. But Sean made the sound.

"Stop. Killing us is no good. What we have on us is only a fraction of our supplies.
You'll never find the rest if you kill us." Sean spoke calmly.

Geofrey didn't speak. It was true ofcourse, but he had no idea what intentions Sean had.

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

The pair had been traveling together since they had met in the cave.

Through their travels, they managed to find a cart to store their supplies in, which they pulled
everywhere. At one point, they had gathered up a stockpile of meds, ammo, and food. The best of
all, was the explosives they found. Three grenades, and a makeshift mine covered in Shotgun shells as
shrapnel. These explosives were the gems of their travels.

Every night, the pair stored their cart in a different cave, and blocked it off with rocks.
And, every night, the pair would go scavenge any nearby ruins, for food and ammo.

They were quite lucky as a team. The caveman had a gift for sniffing out things they needed.
He could smell the powder in ammo, the stench of food, and the opposing scent of nearby animals.

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

"What do you mean meat?" The center of the wall stepped forward, forcing his gun into Seans chin.

"In a nearby cave, we've stored a plethora of ammo and other supplies. If you want the location,
you'll have to come with me." Sean smirked.

He wouldn't just... give it to them... - The caveman thought.

"Why should we trust you?" The center scolded. He forced his gun further into Seans neck.

"You shouldn't. But, if you do, you'll have 20 times the supplies you'll get from killing us."

"Fine. Follow the meat. But keep their hands behind their backs." The bandit yelled. He grabbed
Sean's hands and tied them with a coil of rope off his belt.

And so the men marched, towards the secret cave.
It had a small entrance that they'd had to force the cart through. On the inside, it was massive,
and would hold many of their supplies.

As the Caveman passed through the entrance, he remembered the explosives. They had been carefully stashed
within the walls. A gun shot would set them all off. The caveman stopped. The two men guarding him stopped too.

"This one won't go any farther boss!" One of the guards yelled.

"Stay with him there then. We'll get to him soon enough."

Geofrey stood his ground. He had a pistol on his hip. The guards had not noticed when he transfered it to
his pocket, where it was concealed.

"So meat, where'd you find all this treasure?" One of the guards stammered, impatiently.

"Here and there." Geofrey muttered.


Farther down in the cave, a gun shot echoed through the halls.

As yells began from a bandit, the sound of explosives began to echo, aswell as screams of agony.

The two guards ran down towards the sound. Geofrey grabbed for his pistol, and fired at the pair.

One fell forward from a shot to the back. As the other was turning around, the mine went off above him.

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

The caveman had not won this battle. Yet he was the only one to walk out of the cave.

All the bandits had been trapped inside from the cave-in, and Sean too.
He had lost all of ammo, his food, and his medicine.

None of the thoughts of his treasure crossed the Caveman's mind just yet. The cave-in had not hit Sean.
But had the explosives? Or was Sean trapped inside alive?

Geofrey kept walking, pushing his thoughts away from him.


The Caveman still needed a place to sleep for the night, and the howls of something grew ever louder.

Not bad, not bad at all.