Take A Deep Breath



By Me.




It was a Tuesday afternoon in the Mojave Outpost. I sat alone one one of the worn barstools, eyes fixed on my glass. I knew that with every sip, the delicious and soothing contents of my bottle would disappear and yet I still found myself chugging it down like water. This was my life. Eat, sleep, drink, and sleep some more. It may have been boring, no scratch that- it was boring, but at the same time it was a safe way to live. Being from the Mojave itself, I never really knew much about the world's progress until the NCR rolled into town. I was an only child, living off the land with my father until I was nineteen. By that time, the old man had given up. On everything. Life, love... me. It broke my heart to see him toss in the towel, but for a wastelander, sixty-five is a good age to make I figure. Anyway, when he took to retiring in Good Springs, he left me an important message.

To die early for a cause, is far superior to living old without one.

Later in life I found myself training to become one of them. The big dogs. The Desert Rangers of Nevada. For a while I was one of them, not nearly the best, but not quite the worst either. When the NCR came sweeping in, and we made that treaty, I had begun to think that I had found my reason for living. The NCR, in all it's glory, worked well with my people. Together we brought some sort of order to the people. Soon, though, we had issues. Well, more like a single issue: Caesar's Legion. The Desert Rangers of Nevada seemed to split at one point, many of us had to relocate to the damn, with the NCR. I was one of those men, and the idea that the Legion could attack at any time? Well, it gave me the shivers. They did though, and when the first battle for Hoover Dam started, I charged out, rifle ready. Not twenty men had I killed, before one of them lobbed my worst nightmare at me. The grenade landed short, but blew most of my gun, and fingers to bits. I woke up in the Dam a while after, the victory short lived before I realized that my right fore-finger, and my left ring finger were gone for good, and that I'd have an uncontrollable shake for the rest of my time. Discharged, I wandered for a while before returning to the Outpost. Life seemed to dull from there.


Back at the Outpost I hit the bars hard. The bartender and I had become close even, or at least that's what I always thought after alcohol consumption. Whiskey, Vodka, Beer, you name it-I bought it. Days turned to weeks, which turned to months. It was a Tuesday, I reckon, when she walked in. A woman, wearing a cowboy hat, and plaid shirt. Her short, ginger hair was tied back behind her head. Her eyes were the shape of pinyon nuts, and her face was dotted with freckles. I felt strangely calm near her, she even once looked at me. For many days I observed her drinking habits from my side of the bar. Whiskey. Just, whiskey. Later on, I learnt from the bartender that she was apparently quite down on her luck, like me. I couldn't help but feel curious as to why...

"Hey, there." I said hoarsely. It had been some time since I had last tried to talk to someone, let alone a woman.

"What?" She replied softly. I cleared my throat, and scratched my neck with my remaining fingers.

"So... Come here often?" I gave myself a mental slap in the face for such a stupid approach. I figured that either she found it as pathetic as I did, or she saw my astonished face. I had literally pulled the lowest move known to my family in picking up women. The girl chuckled and turned away from me. "My name is Cade. As you may imagine, I haven't talked to anyone much in the last few months." I took the empty seat next to her.

"Mhm." She replied, while drinking a glass of whiskey. "So do you have something important to say? Because I'm really not liking how close you are to me right now." She looked at me with mock curiosity.

"Well, I... Well, you see the bartender was telling me how your down on your luck, see, and so am I so I was ju-" The girl stopped me mid-sentence.

"My business is my own, but yeah, I am." She turned away, her face red in anger.

"Um.. look, I know I just met you and all, but I've got nothing else to do here and if you need any help with anything I'd be more than-" Once more she cut me off.

"As a matter of fact I do. I have.. had a caravan service, and the trouble is it was attacked, and raided. Now, Crimson Caravan wants me to just 'hand over' my family business. I don't really know what to do." She looked at me with what seemed like disgust. "Here I am, telling some stranger in the middle of this s---hole my life story. Pathetic girl." She shook her head, but not before taking a drink from her whiskey bottle.

"Look, I dunno much about all that, but you should give it up I think. I mean if there isn't any caps involved in the business, how are you going to buy all of these drinks?" I smirked at my attempt at a joke. Apparently she found it entertaining as well, as she too smiled briefly, before returning to her bottle.

"Guess so." She seemed to be deep in thought. "Deal. Do me a favor, and deliver this paper to Mclafferty at the Crimson Caravan. I guess this all that can come of my old brahmin train anyway..." The girl lowered her head in shame for a minute. I took the paper in my right hand and made my way to the door. "Hey!" she called.

"Yea?" I turned back to her

"Name's Cass." she seemed to attempt to smile. Turning back to the door, I felt a sense of pride. I was back on the road again.

End of Log1

((Open to feedback. This is my first fan-fiction, so if you have any questions please ask away.)))

That was...fantastic.I always like hearing fan fiction, and seeing how other people role play. Great work, cant wait till part 2.

Thanks for the support. I'm a bit tired tonight to write another, but I'll definitely try for another tomorrow. I saw two legion fan fics and no House or NCR, and I immediately knew that had to change.

WELCOME FALLOUTFORLIFE!

It's nice to see you writing, I am Yttrium, and I would like to offer some constructive criticism. First off, this is a good fanfic, I've seen bad and great fanfics, and this is good. But I won't leave it at that, how would you become great without knowing what you did wrong? Unfortunately not too many people are into commenting on Fanfics, but hopeful a lot of people will recognize the potential, but hear I am...

First off, the start is rather dry, you need a hook,. A hook is obviously something that gets someone wanting to read the story, it doesn't have to be graphic violence, actually it shouldn't. It could be a question or just something unusual.

Instead of:

The sky was painted with with streaks of green of red,

Could be:

The sky looked like a liquefied super mutant, or someones vomit.

I would like to think the second one is a tad bit more interesting and would draw in the reader.

So think of hooks for your fanfic. You don't need a hook at every chapter but your first one should.

Don't add words just so they're there, and be careful with your word choice.


Not to be rude, but that's blatantly obvious. You take a sip, it's going to disappear from the glass, basic cause and effect that every above the age of three knows. So instead of that, it could be:

I knew I would be missing the elixir soon, it's soothing contents were disappearing fast down my gullet, but I couldn't help but chug it.

Understandable, no?


When denoting who says what, a comma instead of a period.

"Hey, there," I said hoarsely.

This excludes "!" and "?"

Another not, the dialogue tags. Those are:



The stuff after the dialogue: he said, she said, she smiled, he smirked

Now you want most of them to be "said" or not to be there at are. That's the signs of good dialogue, when it can stand on it's own. You may think the said will get tiring, but really it just becomes invisible, and I would sprinkle the other tags only rarely. Like hoarsely, and smirk, should only be used about once in an exchange.

But getting dialogue to stand on it's own with out being confusing is tough work, so I won't give a hard time about it. At any rate, good story, it is NV themed, but that doesn't mean nothing, so keep it up.

Good Luck.

Edit: http://www.gamesas.com/index.php?showtopic=1145934

Thanks man. As you can tell, I'm new to the scene. I've been writing on various sites for a while now, and I have improved. However, constructive criticism is very helpful.

AAARGGHH! I feel like all the new recruits get the love. And all the veteran's of the forums get it too. Im in the middle, and all I get is the occasional tumbleweed of a glance.

I apologize, ignore my ranting. Please direct your attention to the below paragraph that actually has meaning.

That said, this is good. For your first entry here this is damn good. I really like the intro, it was strong and it pulled me in. There was just enough backstory and the dialogue was pricelessly authentic and charming. On top of all that you just set up the story of something we all vaguely find familiar in our travels as Courier's of fabled chips, but it still felt new. Keep it up, and as I tell everyone I write a reply to, please give me some feedback as well, cause I can use it.

Thanks. Hey didn't I already reply to one of yours? I'm sure I've read something of yours.

Take a Deep Breath





By the time I had made my way all the way down the road, the previous feeling of excitement had wore off. Not only had I realized just how far I would have to travel, I also seemed to process the fact that I had absolutely nothing to protect me. Glaring at my hands with disdain I trudged forward. Why, you might ask? I had hoped at the time, that I would be able to impress that girl if I did this. I soon realized how stupid an idea this was, and how foolish I was to go trekking the d-mn Mojave unarmed. I had hoped that perhaps I would've been able to do it, without getting caught in a fight or brawl. This small shred of hope, this single seed of warmth was soon extinguished once I reached Nipton.

I had always knew Nipton to be the sort of place that one tries to avoid. When I approached it's makeshift walls, made of rusty cars and fence posts, I knew something was wrong, but couldn't place my finger on it. Literally. By the time I had circled around to the entrance, it hit me: I couldn't hear a thing. Usually Nipton was a busy place, a mixing pot filled with all sorts of shady characters. Naturally, I thought it odd to be so quiet in the day. As I entered, and walked down the road, I found out why. Before you could say 'Legion', I had already thrown up much of my lunch on the tarmac. Startling memories about my own kinsmen's slaughter seemed to find their way into my head. For a moment, I felt it best that I just sat there on the curb, arms around my sides. Thoughts of surrender floated through my mind. No, I thought, I am going to do this. Mustering my strength, I made my way to the town hall. Bodies littered the floor, but there were no Legion members to be found. Sighing, I reached down and picked up one of the dead powder ganger's knives. Turning back to the town, I knew that this grotesque scene would haunt me for a while. Severed heads dangling from spears, eyes plucked out by the ravens. Crucified powder gagers with scorched skin and torn clothes. Burnt victims, who looked vaguely similar to a large pile of Brahmin crap. I knew from past experience, that it was time to move on. Turning to the mountainous pass ahead, I braced myself. I knew not what the road had in store for me.


The road wasn't as kind as I had hoped. As I entered the pass, a familiar ticking sound assualted my ears. It took me only a fraction of a second to process the noise, before I found myself diving in the opposite direction.

Boom!

The blast sent me sprawling back, knife on the floor and a ringin' in my ears. "D-mn!" I called. Slowly I rose, picking up my knife with my good hand. I found it a hell'a lot safer to climb over the rocky ledges than to go through the deathtrap of cars and mines. After scaling the ridges, I came face to face with another issue.

"Hey there!"A gravely voice called. I turned to hug whoever had come to help me. I probably looked like a darn idiot, covered in soot and grime, with my arms out wide.

"Thank you so much, you don't know how long-," I stopped short. The grinning Jackal member pulled a tire iron from his side, his sneer revealing several missing teeth. "Hey, buddy, look... We don't have to do this right? Right?" I called in desperation. Inching backwards I prepared myself to run, and just as I did, I ran smack dab into a full suit of metal armor. Another Jackal. Before you could say 'New Vegas', I had taken off as fast as I could in the other direction. Hey what can I say, not everyone is willing to fight to armed gangsters in a minefield. Apparently, I didn't have a choice though, because those Jackals had dynamite, and a good arm. I watched the first stick land in front of my feet. Turning back towards them, I continued my sprint. I seemed to know then that there was no way out of this, and that ironically enough, violence was the answer.

Pulling my knife from my side, I charged them. The first Jackal, Tire Iron as I called him, swung at my head, but missed. I took the opportunity to ram my knife so far up his neck, it came out the other side. Blood gushed from the wound like a fountain, and all I could do was watch. I was numb with shock. Had I just killed someone that quickly? I hadn't had much time to think because it seemed that the other Jackal had some sort of Varmit Rifle. The first bullet landed near me, but missed. I looked at the hill-top, and saw her all the way at the top. To attempt to reach her was suicide, I reckoned, so I took my chances with running once more, this time, I made it over the sandy ridge. Although the fight was over, adrenaline still pumped through my body. Strangely enough, I had remembered the location of Wolfhorn Ranch, from my days as a Ranger. Knowing it to be safe, I made my way inside for the night. After chomping down some old cram I found in a cupboard, I searched the place. Checking the stove I found her. Chopper. A slender butcher knife, with it's name inscribed on the handle. It seemed to be much more threatening than my pathetic knife. Tossing my old blade to the ground, I took Chopper. With a sigh I move to the old mattress.

"Cade," I said. "What have you gotten yourself into?" With that I closed my eyes to rest.

End of log 2


((((feedback?))))

This read to me weirdly because of how you used the word two times in the same sentence. Not only is it like an invisible law to not do so, but it also reads a little awkwardly. Maybe is can be turned in to:

With each step I took on my new journey, I could feel my previous anticipation dwindling, until there was neither road nor excitement left.



This seems a little but to squeezed in, maybe it could be rephrased or broken into two sentences.


That whole second paragraph where you describe what happened in Nipton seemed like it could have been fleshed out. You can take more time to describe your feelings and the environment, since yo are so connected to the people of the NCR. I would have also loved for you to talk to that dude with no legs too.



I just don't like the ringin' part. It doesn't seem to fit. Also, instead of using a hash mark, you could use an asterisk: D*mn!

Lastly, it seemed like you rushed to finish the last part. You should have finished the fight with a death or a last reference to the survivor before you take us into a whole new scene. There was no description of where this "chopper" was, which left the reader's confused as to where he was and where the mattress came from. Lastly, who's to stop the Jackal from shooting you in your sleep. It's not like you put too much distance between the two of you guys.

That said, it was still entertaining. The action could have been done better but you still told a story with you own wit to it.

Damn! I had a huge post, and it deleted!!! Gah! I'll be on this soon...

Take a Deep Breath




When morning came, and I awoke, I decided that today I would try with all my power to prevent myself from having to do anything that seemed risky or dangerous. With that goal set, I decided that I would also do a quick clean sweep of the barn, for anything useful. The barn house was really quite small, with only one bed, one stove, and a few cupboards as decoration. Last night I had taken chopper from the stove top, so I didn't bother searching that place. As for the other areas, they proved just as useless. The feeling of disappointment seemed to linger in the dusty air around me, however I decided it best to get a move on. After all, I had a long day of walking ahead of me.

Luckily for me, the barn did contain an old well, which still pumped water to the crops around it. Realizing that I was parched, I grabbed a quick drink from the fountain, before sliding down the dusty hill and onto the road. The trip to Novac proved uneventful. The sky was a cloudless blue, and a small breeze floated through the air. The desert sands whirled to and fro, and it was all I could do to keep my eyes on the road. Upon reaching ranger station Charlie, a wave of heavy nostalgia washed over me, as I remembered the good old days. Had I avoided that single grenade, that one explosive, I might've still been in service. I could only imagine the grueling missions my former squad was participating in, while I was off on my foolish adventure. With one last look, I turned and continued to Novac.

I always found Dinky the dinosaur to be a pretty humorous sight. If there ever was such a creature, I'm sure he didn't, or rather couldn't have looked like that. As I stumbled into town, several people seemed to wave as they passed. I'm not sure if it was just out of compassion, or if they remembered me from a time long ago, when I was stationed in Novac. Regardless, a feeling of tension hung in the air about Novac. People moved about, busy in their day to day lives, but more than once did I catch them glance in the direction of the old Repconn Test Site. I couldn't help but wonder what the big deal was. In order to satisfy my curiosity, I decided I would try asking Manny Vargas. Manny Vargas used to be an NCR ranger, whom I had the pleasure of meeting in one of my missions. I heard that he settled down in Novac, along with another one of his sniper pals. After ascending the steps outside of Dinky I opened the door and walked into the gift shop. A bell above the door rang out as it swung open.

"Hey there! Interested in buying a dinosaur?" asked the man behind the desk. He indicated to a stack of souvenir dinosaurs that lined the table. Obviously no one had purchased one in a long time, but lets be honest here. Who would?

"No thanks, I'm just looking for Manny." I replied. Apparently this was a regular response, as the smile melted from the man's face. He indicated to a flight of stairs on his right. "Thanks. Good luck with your store..." I said, in an attempt to re compensate this poor man. I'm not quite sure, but I think he gave me the finger while I went up the stairs... Any who, Manny was indeed in the sniper nest, attempting to watch the roads of Novac.
"Hey there." I said. At this Manny turned to me.

"Can I help you?" he asked. For a moment nothing registered on his face, however not long after he recognized me. "Hey... I know you! Where have we met before?" He asked. I thought about telling him who I was, but I decided not to. Some of you might wonder why I didn't just outright tell him, and to be frankly honest, I have no idea. I guess I just couldn't bring myself to tell him about what had become of me. What was I going to say? Oh hey remember me? I'm the Desert Ranger who can't even fire a gun anymore! I didn't think so.

"I don't think we have...," I said.

"We have, I just don't remember where. I'm good with faces, trust me." he said with a smile.

"I was just wondering if something is going on down at the old test site? Everyone seems to be acting a little bit weird." I had expected him to denounce the idea, but what I got instead surprised me. Manny's smile dropped, and he folded his arms.

"Ghouls. They're all over the place. I've seen a few up on the ridge at night, but I've been trying to keep the people from worrying. Novac lives of of scrap metal and electronics, which up until recently, we were able to get from the test site. Now that those monsters moved in, we've lost access to the test site, whats more, occasionally ghouls will wander near town at night. I even had to kill one last night." He dropped his gaze. "Some kid came through yesterday. He was searching for one of those Vegas folk. I sent him in to deal with the problems, but I haven't heard back from him."

"Look, Mr. I wish you the best with your ghoul problem, but I've been here for too long as it is. I've got a special delivery to make." I'd already had my fair share of excitement recently, and couldn't bring myself to help out Novac. I decided afterwards that if I ever got the chance, I would come back to Novac, and help them. Until that day came though, I had my own issues to deal with. As I exited Dinky, a scream ripped through the air around me. I dashed out into the center of town to see what it was. At first I couldn't see anything, on account that the sun had set. My eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I could make out several ghouls attacking a brahmin train that had come to stay in town for the night. One of the ghouls was a 'Glowing One', a feral ghoul healed by radiation. At first I was shocked that no one had come to their aid, but I realized that the people of Novac weren't soldiers. If the had tried, they probably would've died. Manny appeared not long after me, bearing his rifle. He fired, and killed two ghouls, but the 'Glowing One' managed to scamper into one of the nearby houses. The residents of which ran back to avoid the creature. They stood shocked, sobbing in fear. Many villagers stood in groups talking about the event. The younger ones had begun to cry, and shake. The brahmin train had been mauled and killed, only one member stood, but not without a few scratches and bruises.

"Everyone, calm down." Manny started. "There is no need to panic, everyone. I'm going to stay here ad keep aim on that door until that monster comes crawling out." Manny took aim with his rifle. "At least no one is still inside." He said calmly.

"Actually," one of the crying towns folk spoke. "My son is still in there..." at this she broke down. The skinny blonde lady tried to wipe away her tears, but they continued to run about. Two other villagers tried to comfort her to no avail. Manny turned to the woman, a piteous look in his eye.

"Mam," he spoke. " I don't know what to say." Manny was a sniper, not a soldier you would find on the front line. I understood and respected him for what he did for this town, but I knew that he probably couldn't deal with this situation. I looked about the crowd, hoping someone would speak up. No one did. My heart began to beat faster as an idea grew in my mind.

"Manny," I said calmly. "If I go in there, per say, and I am able to get the ghoul to come out, would you be quick enough to kill it?" I asked. I knew what I had to do. I don't know why I did it though, I had never even met the poor lady.

"Yes, of course." Manny said, catching on to my plan.. I didn't try to discuss it any further. Pulling Chopper from my waist, I twisted the brass doorknob. Things were about to get bad. For the ghoul.



The front entrance of the house led to a small hallway, of which two other rooms were connected to as well. The air was hazy and filled with dust, to further its appearance, the manilla wall paper had peeled at the edges. I sighed and raised my butcher knife. As I approached the first door, I held my breath in anticipation. I could hear the beast grunting and scratching at something on the inside. Without a second thought, I kicked open the door and ran in, searching for the ghoul. I was shocked, and a little disappointed, to find that the only resident of the room was a chubby toddler. I almost laughed at how I had entered expecting to fight a baby. I put Chopper in it's sheath, and moved on to the other room. I entered the same way as before, but found it to be an empty kitchen. I was puzzled but relieved. I had hoped that the creature left via some other entrance. I returned to the little boy's room. He looked at me and smiled, he was missing several teeth, but it was a cute smile nonetheless. I picked him up and put him on my shoulder, and as I was leaving his room, something landed on my other shoulder. A small glob of green slime. I put the boy down, and looked up. Sure enough the ugly mug of the feral ghoul looked right back down at me.

"Damn." I said blankly, as the beast dropped to the ground. It cracked it's back, and flexed it's arms. With a howl it lunged towards me. I sidestepped it, swinging Chopper down in front of me. The blade cut through it's arm, splattering goo on the floor. The beast rolled once before getting on all fours. We were in the hall way now, the door to my back. For a quiet moment the beast and I simply exchanged glances. Each of us bore a sickening hatred for the other, and as the moment passed I no longer felt scared. Only determined, determined to kill this horrid creature in front of me. Twirling Chopper in my hand I screamed, "C'mon ya ugly B******!" The beast charged forward on it's arms, before lunging towards me. The second it went airborne, I opened the door behind me and fell back in the dirt, the creature sailed above me, but only for a second. Manny kept true to his promise, and blew It's head head in. I got up off the floor and looked down at myself. My face and body was covered in the creatures sickening blood, but that didn't prevent the lady from choking me with a bear hug.

"Is he alright?" she asked. I assumed she was talking about her son, who was in fact safe.

"Yea, he's in his room. He's... fine." I croaked. Without even a good-bye, she dashed inside to her child. Turning to Manny, I said,"It's done." He nodded and handed me thirty caps.

"It's all I've got on me. Thanks for doing what you did." He looked weary, and exhausted. I turned to the road ahead. In the distance I could see New Vegas' twinkling lights. Turning back to Manny I handed him his caps. There wasn't anything that needed to be said, and so with a parting glance, I turned to the road ahead and began walking. I wasn't tired, and although the sun was setting, I felt as awake as could be.

"Hey" Manny called. I turned back for a brief second. "Come back one day," He paused before saying one word, and the last I would hear from him for a while.

"Cade."


End of Log 3

very good. :foodndrink:

For many days after, I spent my time ambling along the road to New Vegas. Admittedly, it was mundane compared to my past days events which had set me on edge since. The one upside to being completely and entirely alone, is that you have time to think. That time was much needed and appreciated, as I definitely needed to get my thoughts straight. I clearly didn't know what I was doing. I had set out, thinking that I would be able to cruise into New Vegas, make the delivery, and snatch my reward. Clearly though, this was not to be the case.

I sat alone with myself one night. The embers from the campfire were slowly dying, glowing a luminescent orange before fizzling out into the grey pile of ash. The gecko meat I had been roasting hung lip from a stick in my hands, it's tender meat bubbling and cracking. Eagerly I awaited the cooling of my precious morsel. Lifting the meal to my face, I smiled. I hadn't had a home-cooked meal in a while. That is assuming you called irradiated gecko meat, 'a home cooked' meal. It's flesh gave way to my teeth, and before I knew it, I had devoured what had been the torso of a fire gecko. It's meat tasted dry, but for some reason it seemed to grow hotter in your mouth, almost as if it had been seasoned with spice. Patting my stomach, I leaned back against a nearby rock. I attempted to pick my teeth with a gecko bone, before closing my eyes to rest. The silent and serene night brought me to a deep slumber, from which I dreamt of many things. The one thing though that I remembered long after that night, was the constant feeling of fear. Without reason, or provocation I felt scared that night. Like a little kid, I whimpered and shook. I realized that it was not fear for myself, but fear that I might go this entire way, only to return to the outpost to find that Cass had left, or died. Or to find that after it all, she still felt nothing for me. Even after I had awoke, I still felt the looming shadow of doubt, that all I had done would be for naught.

When the sun broke over the cliff's edge, I felt alive. Nothing could stop me, I was even ready for a challenge. At least, that was what I thought. About an hour later, I found myself on the final stretch into Vegas. The last walk, as some folk's used to call it. The sun beat down on my back, the dust swirled around my eyes, as though the very mojave was attempting to dissuade me from continuing.
"No sir," I found myself saying. "Nothing you can do to stop me now." A grin the length of six brahmin held fast to my face. I laughed even, for the first time since leaving the Outpost. I truly was going to make it, and no amount of raiders, mutated animals, or legion soldiers could've kept me from my goal.



*****


Less than an hour later I found myself tromping through the remains of old Vegas, broken buildings and windows covered the floor. Ruble covered the ground like an ocean, and to be honest, without the sign, no one would've ever been able to find the north entrance to Freeside. As I approached the high walls of the Crimson Caravan company,I sighed in relief. I had made it. Approximately five days of travel, and several near-death encounters had lead up to this. Grabbing the firm wooden doors, I pushed as hard as I could. I slipped in to the sight of several caravaneers working hard in a field, while others packed brahmin carts and sold merchandise. It never failed to surprise me how the people of the Mojave had been able to set up entire trade routes within the small time they had been out in the world. Many of these civilized people came from squabbling tribes not a century before. Scoffing, I approached Alice Mclafferty's office. Her head snapped up as I entered.

"Can I help you?" She asked i an old, yet assertive voice.

"Yes. This is from Cass. Apparently you've been wanting to buy her caravan company for a while... so should I just leave the paper here? It's been signed and everything." Her eyes widened as she examined the paper. Scrawling a signature on the bottom, she folded it and tucked it away.

"Thank you very much. Here's her pay." Mclafferty handed me a hefty sack of caps. The bag was so large I figured a baby supermutant could fit in it. Assuming they have children. They do...right? Regardless it was a big sack. Smiling, I left the room with the caps. I felt a new sense of pride. I'd done it. The disabled, drunk ranger had crossed the Mojave Wasteland in relative ease. Each step filled me with renewed vigor, all the way out the door. Maybe I had a chance after all. A chance to be something I never thought I could be. Someone important.

Hell Yeah, I'm back!

(((Sorry for the uneventful post. Had to finish up this little quest here.))

Very well written installment. You took more time to develop your character's thoughts as well as what he was doing. Over the course of the section, I felt myself connecting more with the character. It was slow paced, but in a good way. This shows me that you have the potential to make much more detailed, fast paced, and vivid logs, which I now anticipate. Besides a few grammatical errors and a slight change in tone without much foreshadowing it was flawless.

Good job!

Hands down cool. Cass should't be there IMO. She's to, ehh. Ehh is the word that means, "I'm to lazy to write it down so hah!" Lol<<<<

Thanks for the continued support guys. I'm not sure about an entry tonight or tomorrow because I'm traveling again. I've decided to continue this for a while, so stay tuned!

Ever since I started my journey, I had questioned the logic in pressing onward. I had, in addition, questioned my own mental sanity. Was it really that important that I made the trip? Who was I trying to impress, or rather, who would I impress? Starring at the windswept horizon ahead, I made my way back. One step at a time. The sheer heat from the sun was enough to bring me to tears, assuming I had some tears that hadn't been evaporated. I swore that I could've felt mounds of salt starting to form on my face. My skin had long since been turned the color of a Brahmin steak, cracked and worn like dry earth. My boots were ragged, and dusty, turning them a pale grey whereas they were once jet black. My checkered shirt had two holes forming on my shoulders, and my weathered shorts were starting to look like a bunch of rags that had been poorly sewn together. Clutching the money in one hand, and my knife in the other, I trudged on. I had all but given in for the day, when I came across what I considered at the time to be a godsend.

"Hey there," A voice called out to me. I turned in it's direction, only to find myself staring face to face with a Sunset Sarsaparilla billboard, depicting a cowboy drinking the product. I tentatively waved my hands out in front of me, rubbing my eyes.

Did that drawing just talk to me? I've lost it for sure.

"Down here" came the voice. I scanned the floor beneath the billboard, and found the source of the noise. A man sitting at a campfire alone, with nothing but his Guitar.
"Sorry," I replied. "Can I... help you?" I asked anxiously. Whoever this mysterious billboard man was, I wanted no trouble from him.
"Need a drink?" he asked, raising a canteen. At that moment I realized how truly parched I was. I eyed the canvas bottle, but only for a minute before hurriedly grabbing it from the man. I popped the cap and chugged some of the water, before realizing I was getting it all over my clothes. Contrary to the daytime, night was often quite cold. A thin, wet shirt was never comfortable to sleep in. Ever.

"Where you going?" He asked blankly. I didn't quite understand him at first, but I soon picked up on what he was saying.
"The Mojave Outpost." I replied, gesturing in it's general direction. "You?" I asked.

"I'm not going anywhere right now. Just... drifting." He smiled, revealing his yellow teeth.
"Not going anywhere?" I asked in disbelief. Most people came to the Mojave for Vegas, and Vegas only. If not there, then where? "You didn't come for Vegas?" I asked skeptically.
"Nope. Came looking for my daddy, but never found him. Didn't ever really believe I could find him though, out here...." He trailed of, absent-mindedly plucking a guitar string. "But, hey," he continued, "A young man came by the other night, offering me some sort of job up in Vegas. I guess I might just end up there after all." He smiled again. I wiped my mouth before turning to leave. Before I could, a familiar glint of silver caught my eye. I turned back to see a very unique magnum strapped to the man's leg.

"Woah, what's that?" I asked, indicating to the gun. In hindsight I figured it was a stupid question. Clearly it was a firearm, a magnum .44 to be exact. I knew the gun well, I had often used it in service.
As if to confirm how foolish a question it was, the man did not answer me, but simply raised an eyebrow. "Dumb question, I know. But I guess I was just taken aback by your modifications. Very... sleek." The man nodded in response. It's been around longer than I know. I figured it's past was about as mysterious as mine, and so I named it the Mysterious Magnum. Like it?" I nodded in reply.
"I used to be a Desert Ranger, you know. Before this," I held up my crippled hands. "I much prefer firearms, but I've gat a shake now, and my trigger finger's gone. I'm no good at anything useful these days." I turned down in shame.
"Nonsense," he replied with a chuckle. "No real man ever loses his ability to press on. His courage. One day, you'll shoot again, I reckon. I've seen people lose an entire hand, but out of necessity they learnt to fire with the other. You'll get it, just be patient." I simply nodded in reply, doubtful of anything he said. I turned back to the road, but before I could go it seemed the Lonesome Drifter had one last gift for me. A minute into my walk, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned, weapon drawn, anticipating a fight. When the drifter jogged up next to me I was a little surprised.

No words were spoken, yet I felt a deep connection to this man's hardships, as I'm sure he did mine. Without exchanging a sound, he pressed his revolver in my hands. I quivered, whether in excitement, fear, or sadness, I still do not know to this day. The magnum had a silver coloring to it, a custom design engraved on it's barrel. The handle shone in the moonlight, it was made of some sort of pearl material. I nodded, and he nodded back.

"For when you do learn to shoot." He said, before turning back in the direction of the billboard. I watched him for a moment before going my way. I realized that not everyone in the world had the heart of a raider, or the skin of a mutant. Some people were just trying to get by, and it was these people who I had been protecting all along. It wasn't the NCR that I loved. It was them.

Sometimes, they're all you need.

End log 5

BAM!

Another shot now, more violent. The turf around me erupted in agony. With each pop of his pistol, I ducked my head lower. I couldn't afford a mistake now. Not after everything I went through...

BLAM!

Closer, now I could tell. Instinct told me to run, my heart told me to stay, and my head... well it just wanted me to keep it down. Pulling my blade from it's spot on my leg, I waited.... He was closer than ever, two feet above me at max. I stood silent, staring at the low cliff edge above my hat. Any minute now....

BAM! BAM!

Warning shots, two of them. Invitations to run, to try something stupid. If I ran now, he'd get me. One lead shot to the head, and I would be dead instantly. Breathing deeply, I perched myself up a mere notch on the rock, adrenaline coursing through my veins. My legs twitched in anticipation, beads of sweat raced down my cheeks. It was now or never, I could tell he was slowly retreating, not advancing. He must've seen the butcher knife on my thigh, Chopper, and anticipated my move. This wasn't good... Without a second thought, I pulled myself up and over the ledge, rolling in the dirt. I caught his gaze, and I could feel the very malice he wore like a coat. His metal armor was bulky, yet worn out, not to mention several pieces were missing too. What's more, he stood further than I had thought he did. I wouldn't make it from where I stood...

He raised his rifle, and took aim down the sights. He smiled a rotten smile, his remaining teeth hung loosely from their sockets. I glanced at my blade, and an idea came to mind, but I had little time before he found his mark. Without waiting a moment longer, I threw the butcher knife at him. The steel cut through the air in slow motion, as did the bullets from his rifle. I knew not what would happen, but I did know that either one or both of us was going to die.


Can death be beautiful? If it can, than it surely was. The raider dropped to his knees slowly, a fountain of crimson erupting from his skull. The blade had found it's mark, and torn it apart. Firmly, it stuck, a good five inches into the man's cranium. His eyes rolled back into his head, and as if he wished to swim in his own blood, he sprawled out into the puddle below him. Chunks of pale brain matter covered the floor, and a clear liquid seeped across the dirt. I smiled in relief, but only before reality hit me. I was hurt. Glancing at my chest, I noticed a growing red splotch covering my shirt. One of his own bullets had came for revenge. It was too far left to have hit my heart, but it held fast the left side of my rib cage. The pain was excruciating, like a hundred nails being pushed into your bones. I staggered forward, ripping my knife from the carnage. Disregarding my wound I plowed forward. How did this happen? How could I let this happen? I didn't know. I had been traveling the road to Novac, and s I came across the Dorado sub-station, I was ambushed. The raider was armed with a rifle, and pushed me into hiding, but I had timed his shots, calculated his footsteps....

Clutching my wound I staggered forward. If I made it to Novac, someone would be there to help me... someone...
With this thought in mind I pushed on, I had to push on...

End log 6



(((Thoughts anyone?)))

Nipton.

It's very name had an aura of grief to it, as if it was some sort of bad joke. Before it was turned to a smoldering pile of ash, Nipton was just like any other run down town in the wastes. People lazing about smoking weed. Girls running about, tossing their virginity out the window for a handful of caps. The occasional fight, or brawl in the streets. Simple stuff, often overlooked by the rest of the community. No one cared much for the town, but it wasn't something worth attacking either. To the NCR, it was like a bad taste in their mouth that they couldn't wash away. A grey stain lingering on a white campus. Folks from all around visited, as it had been placed along one of the entrance routes into Nevada. Because of the diversity of the populace, an NCR soldier like myself could walk the same streets that a Legion soldier walked not a night before, and live. Of course, that sort of occurrence was rare then, and impossible now.

Nipton.

When I reached the town on my return journey, I felt a strange sense of fear I had barely felt before. I felt as if at any moment I would be lashed to a cross and left to die. At first I didn't understand this fear, this horrific chill inside of me, but nevertheless I pressed on, cautious of my surroundings. the air hung with the heavy stench of decay and rot. The bodies I had the misfortune of viewing before, had further decayed sinse my last visit and resembled only piles of super mutant droppings. With each step towards the town hall, the fear inside of me intensified, growing like a rapid virus. Unconsciously, I puled my blade from my side, the light glinting off of it's stained blade. Edging forward, I began to hear things, sounds in the air. Whispers, demented pvssyr of the damned.

Look to the right

Nothing, save a pile of heads stacked high on top of each other.

Look to the left

Nothing it seems, but 'degenerates' lashed to crude crucifixes, bloody lacerations covering their bodies. A few red houses, with broken glass and open doors stood ominously, seemingly inviting me to my demise. I quickened my pace then, attempting to leave it all behind, all of the hate, the torture. I knew then why I was scared, as I had not been before. It was because I had begun to feel like an NCR citizen again, and that at any moment a warrior clad in red armor would come bursting through an open door, waving a machete in my face. The very thought caused me to grimace. As I reached the exit road towards the outpost, I smiled shakily. It was over now. Right?

Wrong.

It seemed Nipton didn't want me to leave. Just as I passed the final building, a startling growl caused me to literally jump out of my shoes. Turning towards the source, I found myself face to face with a Legion Mongrel, no doubt left in Nipton as some sort of sick parting gift from the Legion. My knife hand shook, waves of terror wracked my body. The beast seemed to smile... or snarl. Either way, it knew it had me. There was no where to run.
The dog scampered forward, lunging at me with it's mouth wide open. I grabbed at the tufts of fur around it's neckline, pulling it to the floor with me. The crashing fall caused the dog to miss it's marl, and instead of ripping my neck out, it ended up clamping it's jaws on my shoulder. Sensing it's mistake I rolled onto my stomach, trapping the thrashing, snarling beast. It's very eyes glowed yellow, scrutinizing me. It's small pupils darted back and forth. I knew I wouldn't have been able to reach for my blade without releasing it, so I held fast, hoping to choke the very life from it's mottled blood-stained body. Slowly, the thrashing stopped. Limb by limb, the creature slowed, it's movements becoming erratic and inconsistent. Soon enough it stopped all together, and getting of of it's limp body, I decided I would use it myself. Walking back into Nipton I ripped one of the long dead corpses from it's post. The body, although strewn on the ground seemed almost relieved. After much hard work I left Nipton with my own parting gift to the Legion.

In all the carnage and decay of Nipton, stood a defiant symbol to the Legion, one I would later use to represent myself. A Legion hound, hanging by it's own crucifix. The irony and generally grotesque appearance seemed to fit in the worn streets of Nipton. Trudging on, I moved forward. Not an hour away from my destination.

I had made it from one end and back, and to be honest I couldn't help but feel a little bit cocky.

End of Log 7