http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?showtopic=1013156&st=20&gopid=14685589&#entry14685589


A huge city has been discovered by slavers, who then reported back to Paradise Falls. Everything was pure there. The ground was fertile, there were trees, and hardly and radiation.The thousand of people there were unaware of the dangers outside the area, and it was peaceful. But thats going to change.

The scouts reported back to Paradise Falls, when they started their biggest plan ever. Slaves were made into slavers, slavers were more bloodthirsty, and not to mention raiders wanting in on the cut. But not without a fight.

Brotherhood of Steel spies in Paradise Falls leaked info to Elder Lyon's, who then began deploying troops in the direction of the city. The Slavers walked for days, until they reached a billboard, "You are now entering Ettvile".







Ettvile
_______________
Name: Jamie Reese (Leader)

Nickname: Mr. Mayor

Faction:Ettvile/Civilian

Weapons: 10mm pistol under desk, pretty good fighter unarmed

Armor: Clean black suit,tinted reading glasses, 'just-in-case' gas mask under desk.

Age: 54

Appearance: Plump, going bald, no beard, suave brown moustache. Brown eyes

Addictions: None

Equipment/Misc items: (can't think of anything a mayor would carry)

Bio: Ran for mayor three years back, and won against his rival, Tom Jackson. He is a fair mayor, and usually can bust criminals like Johnathon Walker
_______________
Name: James Grey

Faction: Ettvile/Bum

Weapons:Broken bottle (when slavers come)

Armor: Jeans, dirty white sneakers, grey sweatshirt.

Age: 26

Appearance: About 6'0" with black hair, brown eyes , and dark skin. He also a scar on his upper back that he got from a fight that he barely escaped from.

Addictions: N/A

Equipment/Misc items: 1x Purified Water, bandages, 2x Stimpack, and a traveling pack

Bio: James could never get a job. He was always trying, but never really could, he either messed up, or came in late (a lot). He knows all the shortcuts, from alleys to sewers.
_____________________
Name: Theodore Daniels

Nickname: Ted, Teddy

Faction: Ettvile/civilian

Weapons: Teddy uses a hunting rifle that once belonged to his father, he lacks skill with this weapon as he has never had need to use it in his sheltered life. When his relitively small supply of ammunition runs out Teddy will use the axe that he works with as a lumberjack, his good upper body strength and day to day usage of this tool have lead to deadley proffiencey with the axe.

Armor: Teddy doesn't wear armour but rather his day to day clothes. Over his upper body Ted wares an open black dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves and a white undershirt. Ted also wears a pair of beaten up jeans, dirty and muddied from his hard working conditions. Teds shoes are some old brown work boots, scuffed at the front from years of hand me down use and poor treatment.
Ted's fingers are all adorned by rings of varying materials that glint in the sun along with the chain bracelet he wares on his left wrist.

Age: Ted is 24 years of age

Appearance: Ted is a young man, tall and broad for his age standing around six foot four inches tall with broad shoulders and a strong, well defined upper body. Ted's hair is medium length stopping just before his eyes and hanging ragidly at the bottom of the neck in a near mullet. Ted's hair always seems wet due to the jet black colour and sheen in the sun.
Ted's face is weatherd for his age and almost leathery along with his tanned complexion. He has a quite atractive strong face set of by his brilliant emerald green eyes that are full of energy when happy but seem piercing and cold when angry.
Ted has a few physical quirks such as a missing index finger on his right hand after a wood chopping accident and a pronounced limp he has had since birth.

Addictions: Ted belives in a tea-total lifestyle with no alchohol, chems or cigarettes

Equipment/Misc items: Ted always carries his axe in a specialy made case on his back and a smaller hatchet at his waste.

Bio: Ted was born in Ettville and lead a fairly normal life, school, relationships and work. He works as the towns lumberjack and tree surgeon making use of the plentiful trees in the area to build houses and stockpile fuel. Ted withdrew into himself for a while after the death of his parents to a flu outbreak, immersing himself in his work and avoiding his freinds and family, he can sometimes go into similar depressions but they never last long.
Ted is a likeable guy who is always readey to help out the community and do his fair share. Ted can't stand slackers and people who take more than they put in.
Ted is a happy guy who is always a great parson to bounce ideas off and talk to about any issues people may face in thier lives, making him well liked and respected within the community


_______________
Name: Vincent Dre

Nickname: Vince

Faction: Ettvile/Militia

Weapons: M1928 Thompson and a M1911 Colt

Armor: Combat

Age: 19

Appearance: Long, messy brown hair, that he keeps out of his face with a green bandanna. Has green eyes, the same hue as the bandanna, and pale skin. He as a lithe body and a cheerful face, with white, uneven teeth.

Addictions: Apples

Equipment: x2 spare drums, x2 spare magazines, x3 Apples, x3 purified waters, x2 stimpacks

Bio: Vince grew a happy child of one the town militia. He was taught to become a member and so was one of the few people who learned how to handle a gun professionally, at the age of eighteen he was given one of the few sets of combat armor. The one year that he has been working has been nice and peaceful, nothing comes to bother them, and the militia are more like keepers of peace inside the city and usually handle in disputes that go on.
___________________
Name: Nicholas Hatcher

Nickname: Nick of Blades

Faction: Ettvile/Militia

Weapons: Assualt rifle, two combat knives.

Armor: Combat armor

Age: 27

Appearance: Bed-raggled hair, blue eyes, diagonal scar over right eye down to chin, caucasian skin, male.

Addictions: None

Equipment/Misc items: sunglasses

Bio: Has had an obsession with knives, and other blades since age 17. Usually a quiet person. Doesn't take crap.

_________________
Name:Arron Rins

Nickname:Aer(pronounced "air")

Faction:Ettvile/Thug

Weapons:Colt Python .357 Magnum Revolver, Break Action Shotgun,and a Small Collection of Knives.

Armor:A black leather trench coat worn over a grey T-shirt,combat boots,and a pair of ratty blue jeans.He also carries around his gear in a large laptop satchel bag.

Age:19

Appearence:Aaron stands at about 6'3",tall for his age,and has dusky grey hair with a reflective sheen,he has pale skin and light blue eyes.He has a number of scars from knife-fights and the like,including a particularly nasty ghash on the back of his neck that runs down his back.He is lean because he rarely gets enough food,but muscular from all those days of walking around the city searching for food,money,and shelter.

Addictions:He will smoke or drink some when he can get hold of ciggarettes or booze,but not enough to have an addiction of any kind.

Equipment/Misc Items:He carries around a small flashlight,camp stove,and his knife collection in his satchel bag.In this bad he also has a few boxes of .357 magnum ammo(About 60 rounds,3 boxes of 20)and a few cases of shotgun shells(About 45,3 boxes of 15)
He also carries around food,water,and a collapsable tent with him when hes finding a new place to live.

Bio:Aaron has lived on the street since he was nine years old after his parents were killed in a robbery.Ever since then,hes had noone to trust but himself,he rarely talks to others and never begs for money.He lives in the streets,the alleys,and the gutters of Ettvile.He once broke into a hunting supply store and stole a revolver,a shotgun,and a kit of camping supplies.Ever since then his life has improved.A stove for heat,a tent to sleep in,and guns to keep away the muggers and thugs,his life been going comparably better for Aaron.He has an obsession with sharp objects and collects knives.His longest is a japanese style kukri,a sort of macete with a curved blade.He is skilled at knife fighting due to growing up around thugs and hoodlums,he also knows his way around a gun for the same reason

________________
Name: Jonathan Walker

Nickname: Walker

Faction: Ettville/ Civilian

Weapons: Wattz 1000 laser pistol (in safe, smuggled), switchblade (under belt)
Armor: Grimy pre-war businesswear

Age: 37

Appearance: Average height, lanky, brown eyes, dark circles under eyes, pale, short neat hair

Addictions: mentats

Equipment/Misc items: wristwatch (obsessed with keeping/managing time), 10 mentats

Bio: From the schoolyard to the service industry, Walker is a ruthless opportunist. Obsessed with money and power, he would gladly sell his children into slavery for a decent price, if he had any. Walker is obsessed with managing his time and usually ends up getting only a few hours of sleep every day. This causes poor eyesight and sometimes delusions. He uses mentats to keep himself in "good enough" condition. Walker currently owns about a quarter of Ettville's businesses. He's best known for his prestigious medical firm, though investigations would show many of the "deceased" are actually being used for drug testing or sold into slavery. He's also been rather generous to the homeless by setting up a shelter and soup kitchen, and has constructed a reform school for the city's criminal population. In reality, he's using these to gain the favor of the homeless and secretly employing the criminals in his reform school. Although secretly the source of street drugs, he's recently taken up an anti-chem campaign: Ratting out his own labs, while planting evidence pointing to his business rivals' involvement with the chem makers, then building more. These "acts of charity" have made him rather popular amongst the people of Ettville, allowing the occasional slip-up to be easily pinned on someone else, usually his own employees. Walker has managed to get a few of the city's militia on his payroll as well, granting him a personal laser pistol anyone outside the military is unlikely to have. His only real competition is the city's "goody-goody" mayor, who's secretly challenged him in every attempt at expansion. In the event of a crisis, they're likely to shoot each other in the ensuing chaos?

____
Slavers
-----

Name: Jack Meakles (Leader)

Nickname: Meek

Faction: Slavers

Weapons: Main: Double Barrel Shotgun. Backup: http://images1.wikia.nocookie.net/fallout/images/7/7e/LASERGUN.gif(in back pocket). Out of ammo weapon: http://images1.wikia.nocookie.net/fallout/images/9/96/Shiv2.gif.

Amor: Leather armor, with added metal plates, underneath a heavy blue robe (for those cold nights). http://wb7.itrademarket.com/pdimage/37/637437_mask1.jpg.

Age: 32

Appearance: Greasy blonde hair, chin stubble. Green eyes. Caucasian male. No eyepatch.

Addictions: None

Equipment/Misc: Flask of pure water around ankle. Five slave collars. Seventy five caps.

Bio: A skilled slaver, he was sent on this mission as the squad leader. He can kill anyone, enslave anyone, and order anyone he pleases on this trek,

_________________
Name: Ignatius Wint

Nickname: Iggy/ 'Boogeyman' (Only by fellow Slavers)

Faction: Slaver

Weapons:
10mm Sub-machine gun
5 Frag Grenades

Armor:
Raider Wastehound Helmet- Made of a slightly lighter and more tan material than most.
Raider Iconoclast Armor- Contains a gun holster on the right hip and a string of grenades wrapped around the left leg.

Age: 19

Appearance: Generally tall, at around 6'4, with a lanky frame and a usually slouched or hunched posture. His body is covered at all times by his armor, but there's no distinguishing or deformed marks on it otherwise.
He's got pale, almost light gray skin and a skinny build that doesn't show off any massively bulging muscles or unfitting abs.
His arms are both long and lanky as well, but retain some muscle. Both hands are covered by scraqes, cuts, and bruises, and are splattered with dirt and grime most of the time. Since they're the most unprotected area of his body, they're the only part that isn't moderately clean at all times.

His legs aren't any different from the rest of his body, except for being dyed a light blue from wading in irradiated pools.
Iggy's face has little to no expression at most times. He's usually seen with an indifferent look, but does sigh and look down-hearted at some emotionally strenuous times. His hair's a messy mop of inky black, and is unkempt for the most part. There's no facial hair, except for some shadow from him shaving. His eyes are a bleak brown color, and the only noticeable mark on his head is the stitched up Lead Pipe wound right on the side of his scalp.

Addictions:
Buffout- Carries four bottles on his body at all times and tries to refill them when he can. Becomes less motivated and overall mopey when on withdrawal, in addition to the usual side-effects.

Equipment/Misc items:
Four Slave Collars
Four Bottles of Buffout
Tape Recorder
Empty Holotape
500 10mm Rounds


Bio: Iggy's father was a roving Trader until he applied for a position at the Talon Mercenary Company.
Denied, he was unexpectedly killed on spot after arriving at Fort Bannister to see if he was accepted or not.
He was unaware, though, that his wife in Rivet City was pregnant.
Iggy himself was born just a year after the incident, and lived four years of his life under the supervision of his mother until a nervous breakdown caused his mom to abandoned him in the middle of Charnel House, which was empty for the moment.
Rather than being killed by the Raiders that came a few short hours after, he was instead traded away to Paradise Falls in exchange for ammunition.

The life of a Child Slave was hard, since he had no buyers for his ten years living in that way. He closed himself off completely, isolating his thoughts and actions to the small room he was given in the Child Slave pens.
In his sixteenth year of slavery, he was unexpectedly set free by a Slaver claiming to be his dad.
The Slaver, named Jorcht, actually had a son of his own once, and took pity on Iggy. Adopting him, Iggy began to become trained in the ways of Slaver life, and started viewing his new 'job' with complete indifference. Truth was, he felt guilty about what he had to do on a regular basis. He tried to stay out of big operations, and even kept the killing to a minimum as best as he could on his own Slave drives.

Other Slavers never respected him, but some started to show a type of Mentor side to him, guiding him through his life with their own ways of handling the stress.
Iggy ended up drowning his woes in drugs and alcohol, staying inside Paradise Falls and tending to stores and jobs while most Slavers were away.


_____________

Name: Samuel Jones


Nickname: Psycho Sam


Faction: Slavers

Weapons: Hunting rifle,combat knife, 5 frag mines.

Armor: Merc Grunt outfit with a black top

Age: 34

Appearance: Samuel hates his hair growing longer than a couple of millimeters. And it is
always shaven, he has a rough face and is missing a couple off teeth due to irradiation
from dirty water, he has a thick beard that has not been shaved since he was 32 and he is
tanned, from overexposure to the sun. he also has a thin scar runnning along his right
forearm up to his shoulder.

Addictions: Pscycho, Ultrajet, Jet, Whiskey, Scotch.

Equipment/Misc items: Motorcycle handbrake, Turpentine, x8 psycho, x3ultrajet, x8jet,
x3whiskey, x2scotch, spare ammuntition. Also, x6 Slaver Collars

Bio: Samuel jones was always a devil with his hands constantly crafting
weapons out of the most unimaginable items. Samuel was raised by raiders who taught him
drinkng from a young age, and unfortunately for samuel...Hard core chems. He aquired th
name Pyscho Sam from a memorable battle with super-mutants just north of big town, in the
german town police department. The raiders (Sam included) where raiding the PD for psycho
and other chems, when a party of Mutants broke up their little raiding session. Sam pumped
up on three different chems bashed his way through a super mutant brute and severly
crippled a mutant master, but had to retreat when the super mutant master cut an inch deep
scar, leading from his forearm into his shoulder, with a rusty nail. Since then Sam
travelled to Paradise falls where he aquired the tools of the trade and became a
slaver.
____________

Name: Henry Jones

Nickname: Jonesy

Faction: Slaver

Weapons: Scoped and silenced Assault Rifle-Painted black to blend in at night/Infiltrator(Whatever you want to call it), small 32. Pistol.

Armor: Merc Grunt Outfit.

Age: 22

Appearance: Male, 5'7, pale skin, blue eyes, giant scar through right eye, terrible crooked legs.

Addictions: No addictions.

Equipment/Misc items: 4 Slave collars, large amounts of 556. ammo, small amounts of 32. ammo.

Bio: Henry was a slave until recently, he was given the 32. pistol and that was it, he managed to steal an Assault rifle from the weapons store. As well as that, he also stole a scope and silencer, he somehow convinced one of the nicer Slavers to help him change the Assault Rifle into something else. He's hardly ever used it, but his main mission isn't to stay with the Slaver's forever.
__________________

BoS

Name: Mason Carcer (leader)

Nickname: MC

Faction:BoS

Weapons: AK-47

Armor: BoS power armor, recon helmet

Age: 36

Appearance: Buzz saw hair. Blue eyes. Muscly build. Grizzly survivalist beard

Addictions: None, but enjoys a drink time to time.

Equipment/Misc items: Holotag, whiskey.

Bio: Former wasteland hunter, joined right away during their week-long recruitment in 2275, and trained to become a knight-paladin. He is the leader of the squad sent to Ettvile after hearing his orders
__________________________

Sam Renor

Spark (Modded a rifle wrong, big boom)

B.O.S

Main:
Mini-Gun
Secondary:
Modded laser pistol (Weight Reduction)
Standard BOS knife

Armor:
Power Armor, BOS standard
Age: 25
White, Brown Eyes, shaved head
No addictions

3x Pure water / Ration Kit / BOS medkit / Fifty caps hidden in his Ration Kit / Detached Scope / Holotag

Recruited from Rivet City, this Soldier has been demoted to Knight, from Paladin, because of an accident in modding a laser rifle. He was trained in energy weapons and big guns. A week before departing, he modded his laser pistol to reduce its weight for carrying. He has the peculiar attribute of always being in his armor when possible, even sleeping in the armor (Much to the dismay of the people in the bottom bunk who might end up smashed). He shows a general disrespect toward snipers, refering to them as pansys that hide behind rifles. At a personal level, he hates BOS rations and will find any way to deviate from the mandated meals.

________________

Name: Larry Zito

Faction:(BoS)

Weapons: M-16 with armor piercing rounds, Mosin Nagant bolt action sniper

Armor: Power Armor

Age: 33

Appearance: Tall, Scrawny build, medium length brown hair, scars on left leg mostly around knee, blue eyes

Equipment/Misc items: Equipment bag with tools, ammo, some food and a few pictures.

Bio: Larry had once been a wastelander in the area of Kansas. He moved eastward with his "wife" living off quick jobs. When he reached DC he joined the BoS, after slavers captured the caravan including his wife. When he learned the slavers that had abducted his wife had moved into the area near the town, ho joined the BoS unit that was responding.
____________________

Name: John O'Reilly

Nickname: Boomer

Faction:BoS

Weapons: Missle Launcher, Combat Shotgun, Combat Knife, 4 Frag Grenades, 2 Frag Mines

Armor: BoS Power Armor, Recon Helmet

Age: 21

Appearance: White Male, Athletic Build (Think Distance Runner), Shaved Head (Red Hair), Green Eyes, Has a 5 o'clock shadow, and a slight Irish Accent

Addictions: Explosions

Equipment/Misc items: Holotag, 2 Bottles Purified Water, 5 Stimpaks

Bio: Lived in Rivet City most of his life. His family had immigrated from Ireland in the early 1900's. They never got rid of their accent. He was raised by parents who always talked with an accent like they were straight out of Dublin. He shook some of it off, but it's easy to tell that he can't get rid of it completely. As for his love of explosions, he had volunteered to be part of Rivet City's security at age 16. They were in desperate need of men, so they let him join.

One day, a sizable amount of Super Mutants headed toward Rivet City. He was unfortunate enough to get caught on the wrong side of the bridge as it retracted. As the Super mutants got closer, one disappeared in a ball of flame. The BoS were luckily in the area, and he helped them fight off the remaining Super Mutants. For not running, the BoS invited him into their ranks. Since it was an explosion that saved him, he decided he wanted to specialize in demolitions. He is now a Knight and well on his way to becoming a Paladin.
_________________

Name: Andrew Clark

Faction: BoS

Weapons: A standard issue Laser rifle
Armor: Bos Power armer (No power helmet)
Age: 19

Appearance: Neck length dark brown hair, brown eyes, clean shaven face, Around 5 foot 7. Quite strong.

Addictions: None

Equipment/Misc items: Andrew is always wearing a small silver bracelet that his little sister gave him on his 19th birthday so that he would "never forget her or his family". He also wears a black bandana that is stained with the blood of super mutants on his first day as a Brotherhood soldier. Around his neck he carries his BoS holotag with name and squad inscribed.

Bio: Ever since he witnessed the chaotic lawlessness of the wasteland, Andrew made it his life's effort into joining the BoS ever since the age of 13. Since then he has dedicated everything into making sure that he is up to scratch into joining. On his 19th birthday he announced to his family that it was time for him to leave and help the greater good. Needless to say, his family were extremely saddened by this, after hearing recent reports of local BoS troops from rivet city dying in D.C protecting the GNR Radio station very recently. A few days after that, he left home for the brotherhood of steel headquarters and prepared to begin his training. However after being suited up and ready to begin, there was an urgent help request broadcasted out on all emergency frequencies from GNR, requesting firepower to help hold off what seemed to be an endless onslaught of super mutants. Andrew was then thrown into a squad and transported to GNR on his first mission. After hours of shooting and bloodshed, the BoS finally stood victorious. Andrew was quite scared at being thrown straight into battle but felt proud (and extremely lucky) that he had managed to survive the attack. He returned to BoS HQ and began his training but refused to wear a helmet as he was sure that his bloodstained bandana was lucky and wanted to wear it whenever on a mission. So far he has been on 3 different missions excluding the GNR battle and has become good friends with his squad members.
________________________________

Name: Gregory Kelly

Nickname: Greg

Faction: Brotherhood of Steel

Weapons: AER9 Laser Rifle. His sidearm is a plasma pistol taken off of a dead Enclave Officer. Carries a combat knife.

Armor: Brotherhood Power Armor, with recon armor fitted under it.

Age: 34

Appearance:
-Greg is a tall male, standing at 6'6".
-Green eyes
-short brown hair
-Patch over his left eye from a training exercise accident while he was still an initiate
-Though he suffers from many of the drawbacks of his age, he maintains a good amount of muscle.
-Has a very bony face structure
-Sunburned skin
-Caucasian
Addictions:
-Cigarettes

Equipment/Misc items:
5x Frag Grenades
150x Energy Cells
250x Microfusion Cells
5x Purified Water
10x Cram
Pack of scavenged cigarettes
2x Stimpacks
Roll of Bandages
Rusted lighter that rarely works

Bio: Gregory was initiated into the Brotherhood at the age of 20 after leaving the Commonwealth. He doesn't have a prestigious combat history, but has been in his share of firefights. Used to being the "old man" of his squad, Greg has become comfortable with his position within the Brotherhood and is obedient to whoever is commanding him, or who he is leading. He is a natural teacher due to the knowledge of weapons and fighting he has gathered in his years in the Brotherhood. While more skilled than most of the Knights and Paladins he encounters, he isn't cocky about it. With his old age and abuse he has put on his body through years of smoking and fighting, he knows his time in the Brotherhood is coming to an end, and is hoping to leave and settle down somewhere in the Wasteland.
Proficient with repair and maintenance
_____________________________-

No one post yet. We need a few more slavers/homeless, NO MORE BoS!

Okay,so i cant start yet..that svcks,I have a good intro for Aaron.Also,I have an idea,lets start the RP a few days before the main assault.The slavers are planning the attack and regrouping after being seperated during the walk,ettvile guys will do whatever they normally do,and the BOS are setting up their defense points outside of the city,And the mayor will be meeting with the BOS leader about the situation.

Sound like a good plan?

No, the BoS are FAR behind the slavers.

Come on people hurry up and join in so we can get this thing started.

Okay, here we go!


Slavers: Jack Meakles


The slavers were walking. They had spent the night sleeping next to the sign "You are now entering Ettvile, 1/2 mile.". Meek looked through the dirty gas mask, at his crew of seven (3 players 4 NPC's). He would radio Paradise if he needed backup. The had his shotgun slung over his back. He wasn't far from his greatest mission.

BoS: Mason Carcer

Mason and his squad of almost usless deadweights were far behind the slavers. He held the AK-47 with his underarm, taking a sip of his whiskey. He marched. "Come on, squad, we can't slow down, we don't know how far it is!". A buzzing groan came from behind him, but he didn't care. They were going to march.

Ettvile: Jamie Reece

Jamie was in his office, with nothing to do. At the door was two guards, and behind that, was also two guards. Ettvile was mostly peaceful, except for the occasional store hold up, drunken fool, and clumsy driver. There was no big shoot outs. But that was mainly because of the police and the militia. It was around 6:30 PM.

Iggy stared behind him longingly, the sight of the sign lingering in his mind.
He gripped his gun tightly in his right hand, but kept his arms loose. He knew there wasn't going to be any conflict yet, but a little paranoia never hurt anyone.
He lagged behind the rest of the group, taking the rear even though he wasn't old to do so. Isolating himself from the others allowed him to stay with his thoughts instead of having to listen to the often bloodthirsty or foul-mouthed conversations of his brethren.
Although it wasn't noticeable, he occasionally stumbled on the long walk. His Buffout addiction was pretty bad, and he'd swallowed a bottle before leaving, but he was starting to get a headache and regretting that decision.
However, being on withdrawal would probably have a worse effect...

He picked up his pace a bit, reaching a free hand up to his head and slipping it through his mask to scratch his sweaty scalp. Being fully-clothed in a hot environment was also a generally bad idea, but he'd come to barely notice temperature after long hikes. Still, the greasy feeling was getting to him.
Taking one last glance backward, he finally rejoined the rest of the group with a sigh. He didn't like what he was going along with, but tried to push it out of his mind.

Jonathan Walker, agitated and suffering from an hour's mentat withdrawal, gazed tiredly around his completely unremarkable office. Spotting a small figure creep silently into the room he quickly whispered, "closer, quickly now! What do you have to report?" The figure, a young homeless boy, timidly replied, "four of them sir. Four more of the militia are now working for you." "Excellent," returned Walker, "soon I won't have to rely on pathetic middlemen like that Thompson anymore." After handing the boy a bag of twenty coins(caps?), he ushered him out the door and then passed out at his desk, perfectly content.

BTW, does Walker have to be a freedom fighter?

James was currently in a back alley, running from three drunken thugs who wanted to mug him for his meager supplies. James thought, "There's a manhole not too far from here, I'll use that to get away." He then picked up a bottle and threw it at the frontmost thug, knocking him out. While the others were distracted, he ran into another side alley and climbed down the manhole. Once he reached the bottom, James heard one of the thugs say, "Where'd that bastard go?" James thought, "Better luck next time, or never.", and traveled the sewers until he got to another manhole, where he climbed back out to the surface.

Aaron saw james exit a manhole near his makeshift camp between two buildings.The lanky teenager was roasting a bit of "Mystery Meat" over a small camp stove.Aaron has seen james around the streets before.James wasnt tough,but he was damn fast and had a way to get around.They were in the same boat as far as work was concerned,and Janes had helped teach the youger street kid how to survive.The older bum was the nonviolent type,so he occasionally hung around Aaron for protection.

"Hey James,is it those muggers again? The bastards shouldnt be preying on us,were in the street,just like them."
The muggers were getting worse.Usually they didnt bother the other homeless,butr lately they had gotten more indescriminate.A few weeks Aaron had been forced to shoot one. The guy had a knife to my throat,what the hell was I supposed to do?

Vincent patrolled the town like he normally did, looking for anyone who would cause trouble. Vince didn't like the bums and thugs that lived here

Good for nothing filth, if you ask me.

He couldn't much about though, you couldn't kill someone for nothing and you couldn't go chasing them in the alley ways, they would run circles around you. So he just continued on his way, pausing to talk to a civilian about his life and whatever else, most people knew everyone in the town, bum or not. Vince continued om his way walking by the alleys and just barely glancing into there shadowy depths. A few weeks ago they found somebody dead in the alleys, there had been no suspects, bullet wound is what did him in.

See, their evil, they shouldn't be here, bringing down this community.

He took out an apple and began eating it, looking at the towards the sun, it was low now and in about two hours it would be down. He took another big bite out of the apple, he would eat the core and all, admiring the day.

Good day, hasn't been trouble all day.

James had just come out of the manhole when he smelled "Mystery Meat" roasting over a fire. He turned and saw his somewhat protoge Aaron cooking over a fire. Once Aaron asked James what happened, James replied, "Yeah, it was them alright, I barely escaped getting mugged and/or ending up as another corpse in a back alley. Anyway, do you mind if I hang out here for a while, there's strength in numbers?"

OOC:



He dosen't have to, but does he really have much of a choice (other than death and slavery?).

Note: After this post, the BoS have gotten a lot closer, and you have to write what happened after the shooting.


IC:

Ettvile: James Reece

James walked through 'his' city, looking it over it like a watchdog. Although he only controlled most of it. He was the mayor, but only controlled the milita, police, stores, and all the good citizens. Walker controlled the scum. Pickpockets, drug labs, theives, killers. But he didn't have proof. If not, he would be in prison. (hint, hint, might let them out in the slaver choas to fight back, hint hint)

His 'special' guard was next to him. He was a brute. He could kill anyone in one smash, the only problem was that he was a little bit slow in the head, making up for that in abnormal size and strength. The sidewalk path to the store was cover in spit, gum, and pigeon crap. Then all of a sudden people started screaming.

Slavers: Meek

Five minutes before fully entering the town

People in the city stopped, and the two guards in the town entrance held up there weapons. Iggy killed one, and Sam shot the other one through the leg, while another slaver, well, enslaved him. People started screaming, and running. Down the alleys, into building, and some thugs starting firing their pistols blindly at the eight armed-to-the-bone slavers, only to be trampled on, or gunned down in all the chaos.

An hour later

Only the eight slavers and their brahmin were in the main street. They walked down the road, covered in blood and twenty four bodies. Most of them were a squad of militia with their combat armor full of bullet holes, some were thugs who had the balls to take out their heat and start firing, and the rest were civilians who were either trampled or shot. They were left with seven slaves, which they put in a small house with only one way out.

They started a bonfire on the main road, which the slaver team was around, proud of their work.

OOC:

I have no clue what's going on. Where are the BoS, and have the salvers attacked the city yet?

Boomer got to marching. He didn't mind marching with Power Armor, so much as he had to carry his missile launcher while marching. The only negative to being a demolitions expert was the fact that his equipment was hardly ever light. He carried his shotgun in his right hand while his missile launcher was on his back. Still it weighed enough to wear him out.

He was sick of this heat. The Wastelands were completely unforgiving. He just hoped that this battle would be one of the easier ones that he fought. He had heard that slavers were involved, so that meant there WOULD be a fight. There wouldn't be a way around that. Still, it would mean he would get to blow something up. He kept that thought in his mind as he trudged onward.

Maybe you should READ!

Yes, who they hell else would they have shot at, and it says right here

I did read, I just can't understand anything the way you word it.

Walker slowly lifted his head from the desk; he was groggy, and suffering from withdrawal. He opened the cabinet near him and took out the last case of mentats in the building. After popping two into his mouth, he looked at his watch, 7:43 it read. Hmm, I should have just enough time to reach the medical facility for a refill and be back here before dark. "Although, those bums are becoming rather violent," he told himself, retrieving the laser pistol from his safe and stuffing it under his belt. Without a second thought, and a revolver packing escort, Walker began the long walk to his medical firm, which happened to be the fourth closest building to the main gate.

Ettvile: Jamie Reese

Jamie was in the sewer, with a bunch of other survivors, not to mention his 'special' guard, and two other normal ones. There was a trash can fire, and a matress, being used by a bum. The militia were down there also. Seven. Two were above grounds, guarding the manhole in the alley, two were underground, guarding the ladder, and the rest were with the survivors, making sure nothing crazy happened.

A civilian went up to him, "What do we do now?". He responded, "I dont know....No, heres a plan, we all sleep here tonight, then move to another ladder, and move to the closest building. Civilians were openly panicking, while to militia were hiding it, their armor, helmets, and guns shaking. They had never fought before, only trained for six weeks.

Boredom was running through Andrew's mind. He hated marching to places. He wished that they could have flown in with one of the helicopters. But there are only a handful of them and they were to be used for emergencies only. He kicked a stone on the ground and continued marching. His long hair was dripping beads of sweat onto his nose and he considered whether or not he should just chop his hair off in the stupidly hot weather. He grinned to himself and looked back onto the beaten road. Nothing in the distance. Andrews grin faded as he squinted his eyes in hope of seeing something. But still nothing. He sighed and kicked another stone. Still a while to go yet...

BoS: Mason Carcer

After hours of walking the city was in sight. They started marching faster, and faster. The gate was in sight, the slavers dots in their sights.

The group of slavers started blasting, killing two initiates. They opened fire. A slaver was shot in the head, putting a red hole through his metal helmet. The raiders backpedled and fired. There was too little of them, and their light armor let them run side to side quickly, letting no BoS get a clear shot. A paladin and two knights fell, lifeles as the slavers fled, on riding a scared as hell brahmin, one shouted, "Sewers! To the sewers!". They were gone in an instant, knowing the bulky armor would black the BoS from getting down the small manholes.

As the group neared the city, they began to take on fire. Boomer dropped his shotgun and grabbed his missile launcher. He already had one missile ready to fire. He took aim towards the grouping of slavers and fired the missile. It flew towards the group and exploded. He didn't know if he had hit anyone, but he hoped he had. He put the launcher back on his back, and grabbed his shotgun. He moved toward the city carefully. The slavers were too fast for him to get a clear shot, but he fired anyway. He heard one shout, "To the sewers!"

He pulled a grenade from his belt. He walked up to Paladin(?) Carcer and said, "Sir, I think they've taken to the sewers, you want me to give them a little present?" At that, he tossed the grenade up and caught it. He was ready to pull the pin and drop it down.

Nearing the main gate, Walker noticed a large bonfire in the middle of the street, too focused on getting his mentats he mistook it for a drunken party and pressed on. When he was close enough to notice the corpses, pools of blood, and men with guns, the slavers noticed him. His drugged up guard was caught unaware and quickly lost his head to an assault rifle. Walker, panicked and covered in blood, dove into a doorway and backed up against a wall, looking for a way to escape. Fortunately for him, it was at that time the BoS began firing on the slavers, giving him a chance to slip into an alley undetected.

When the gunfire stopped, he poked his head out and noticed strange machine-like men surrounding a manhole. Realizing they were enemies of the psychos originally in the streets, he cautiously approached them, his hands in the air, and shouted "hello."

Henry looked at his fellow Slavers and he shivered, he didn't think he was ready for this, being a Slave for so many years hadn't made him any better with weapons... He shivered again and looked around at the buildings, he didn't like the look of anything at the moment, he kept his eyes open and didn't stop shifting his view every 2 seconds. Henry then looked around a bit again and noticed the Brotherhood of Steel, he opened his mouth, to late.

He noticed the gunfire and he quickly fell back, not wanting to get full of bullets within a couple of minutes of getting settled. He heard one of the other Slavers suddenly yell, "Sewers! To the Sewers!" Henry looked up and noticed all the other Slavers bolt towards a manhole. Henry started up his sore muscles and he sprinted ahead of them, he saw all the others come right up behind him. They bolted into the manhole and Henry flew in after them.

Pulse pounding, hands sweaty, Iggy raised his Submachine gun up, making eye contact with the Ettville guard.
With only a breath of hesitation, he pulled the trigger, sending a flurry of bullets straight into the man's chest.
Right as the limp body fell to the ground....Iggy's eyes snapped open.

Groggily, he rubbed them with the palms of his hands, and switched to cradling his head from the headache.
He heard whooping of triumph from around the campfire, and it depressed him. Even worse, his Buffout wore off. He could tell because his vision seemed to be shaking for no apparent reason. Grunting, he scooted forward and stretched. Suddenly, he noticed the black burn marks on his right glove, from clenching his gun so hard.
Sighing, he started to doze off again. He didn't want to do that. He didn't want to do ANYTHING.

A glimmer in the distance caught his eyes. At the very end of his sight, he saw a group of figures in shining armor step through the night.
He had time to say one phrase.
"Oh [censored]."

Bullets rang out. First from his side, then from theirs. His hearing gave into a ringing when an explosion knocked him off his legs. He went along with the others, leaping into the sewers with them.
Right when he splashed into the water, a round object fell too.
A Grenade.
"Damnit!" He yelled loudly as the explosion flung him across the sewer into a metal pipe, where he fell down face first. Groaning, he got up, injured.
His first instinct? Chugging a bottle of Buffout. Which is what he did.
Once he could think more clearly, he stuck with the group and examined his wounds. Two shrapnel shards, one in his shoulder, one in his knee. Witha grunt, he pulled them out, letting the drug take away the pain.
He couldn't even conjure up any emotion for what had just happened.
"What now?"