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 Posted: Sun Aug 30, 2009 8:11 pm
Mission Briefing 
Approximately a week ago, the settlement of Daleway has become unresponsive to our signal and has become a newly formed Ghost Town. Apparently no one knows the nature of the disappearance of the residents from the area. It is believed that the remaining wastelanders residing in the settlement have been silenced out of fear to prohibit others from venturing into the territory to solve their dilemma. Due to our alignment to Daleway in trading, that is what brings us to our mission.
Our objectives are as followed:
1. Upon arrival to Daleway, we must secure the settlement tightly.
2. As soon as we acquire the territory, we thoroughly search the buildings for any of the wastelanders who might have information on these disappearances. Any potential hostiles are ordered to be killed.
3.Whenever and if we receive knowledge concerning their lack of response to the Headquarters, we go to search for the kidnapped wastelanders and eliminate the threat.
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Posted: Sun Aug 30, 2009 8:35 pm
Rules
-This one is a no brainier, no godmodding.
-Because this isn't some video game you can insert some cheats in, it means no infinite ammo.
- I will entrust the individuals who joined to describe your equipment selections in this RP. Of course use the proper equipment from your rank.
-This is a prior WARNING to all Brotherhood members who decide to enter this. Because of the length involved in this role play, even if you do other role plays when this is finished want to truly tie even if do some major time paradoxs. Overall this is truly Canon to your character. [ Edited]
- Depending on how you function will initially decide how things go and the lasting effects your actions in this area. So I really suggest those who clown around to not enter or else risk their character's life or others. Such actions will conclude whether or not it takes a month or a year to complete.
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Posted: Sun Aug 30, 2009 8:50 pm
Crew Roster [ The essence of this role play will only have a select amount of roleplayers allowed access. Those who Reserve a Spot are guaranteed entry into this mission. Upon the day it opens, it will come down to first come, first serve.]
Millenium Joker [ George "Joker" ]
GrayFox436 [ Damion "Havoc" Wolf]
THE TRUE RAZGRIZ [ Zaid Al-Hadithy]
Cabbage The Centaur [ Erin 'Two-hands' Celdt]
Breenland [ Bren Land ]
Gigant Abraxia
[ We are now full]
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Posted: Tue Sep 01, 2009 12:34 am
[ 2 Days after the Mission Briefing and the start of the Adventure]
Within the arid environment known as the Wasteland, an unusual machine was seen motioning around the area of the Midwest. Animals and Humans alike rarely saw them in motion, a functional vehicle of pre-war era. Strolling along the desert, a group of soldiers from the Brotherhood of Steel were approaching a settlement in the Southwest Commonwealth region. Daleway who held a neutral, but beneficial alignment to the faction was their primary focus in regards to the mission.
Such mechanical vehicles were preserved in the bunkers of the headquarters. The emissions replacing the widely known source of gas were Fission Batteries. Through research and studies based on automobiles, it was completely plausible to use the nuclear energy to sustain their Flatbed truck. Using the batteries, it resulted in giving them access to long travel overall.
The dangers of the wastes made it crucial to forge modifications to not only strengthen it's exterior and interior for living in this godforsaken land, but customized to transport soldiers. With the grey paint job to symbolize their faction, the front was crafted to place a battling ram in case combat was impossible. Expanding the back of the Flatbed, this was able to allow a good number of Brotherhood soldiers and supply to fit there in a stable manner without converting too much weight.
Sitting in the center between the two squires was the commanding officer involved in leading the soldiers to a successful mission. Senior Knight Vince Dirks was his name and from those who had happened to be his underlings knew his character. A man of Texas origin, he possesses the gunslinger cowboy persona to heart and retains a friendly nature despite belittling mutants of any kind from personal experiences. Smoking a cigar, while the squire was driving the flatbed, Senior Knight Dirks addressed the soldiers that were positioned at the back of the Flatbed truck.
"Dag nab it, this is taking too long to reach Daleway! Yall think we might move faster if Tank McClawy ain't with us? "
He said in his usual Texan slang, even though he sensed those accustomed to his speech knew he was singling out Erin, but in a playful but humorous manner. Surely he held some animosity to them for some of his misery, but he learned to belittle through jokes to not stir up the emotions of his comrades. Speaking up, he grew serious as to tell them their current where bouts.
“I reckon must tell y'all we are ridin' ahead to Daleway in about three hours, give or take."
He told them this to otherwise update them on things, laying back on the seat and keeping the small window open to hear them respond and fill the nice breeze. Camping and moving for about three days, around the afternoon past noon they would be at their destination.
[ For now you guys can interact.]
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Posted: Tue Sep 01, 2009 10:02 pm
Erin was standing up behind the cab and looking forwards over it, his arms crossed in front of him as he played with the switches on his pipboy. He was very, very pleased.
It made several loud noises and he chuckled. He didn't know what half of these little functions were, the thing was a display piece and had a stack of them with seemingly no purpose at all. He did like the one with the bars that moved up and down and the dot that you had to get to go past the bar that wasn't yours. A simple little distraction, but nonetheless entertaining. The thing sort of itched where he was still forming callouses under the plates, but that was a tiny price to pay. He'd recently discovered that he could record and play holotapes, but that required spare holotapes and some kind of device to affect the transfer. It recorded voice though, and that only required a microphone. He didn't have one of those either, as far as he could tell, but he hadn't finished playing with the thing yet. The techs had offered to remove the multitude of utterly useless features in order to streamline the interface, but he'd decided to keep them to fiddle with in idle moments like these.
Behind him on the floor was his harness and the assortment of grenades and medicine it held. Also he had a long steel rod that he was using to practice throwing with spears as opposed to just objects, and had brought with him to keep his hand in, as it were. It was heavier than spears typically were, but he didn't keep having to replace it since it didn't shatter when he threw it. "I've got a good feeling. I think this mission is going to go well for us."
Erin, clearly, is no fortune teller.
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Posted: Wed Sep 02, 2009 3:30 pm
Damion sat at the back of the flat bed, away from the Death Claw and ready to leap off of the vehicle the moment its domestication wore off. His runin with them just before joining the Brotherhood of Steel was still fresh in his mind, as were the scars. The burned flesh had just stopped itching. Disconcertingly, they never found the body of the last Death Claw that attacked him. He had vowed to find it, skin it and turn its hide into a jacket. When the Senior Knight made his comment about ditching the creature, Damion looked up to see if he was joking or not.
The knight was, of course.
He leaned back against his "seat" and checked his assigned weapons and gear. While he had lost most of his stuff in the fight, he still had his tactical kevlar vest. It only covered his torso but there were metal inserts in the front and back of it. Not great coverage but better than nothing. Aside from that he had an equipment harness similar to what was used by the US during Veitnam to attach his gear to his person. The front of his vest was boldy decorated with the Brotherhood standard sword and cogs. It was a light load meant to keep him mobile.
The AK he was issued had seen better days, as it was with much of the equipment found in this savage world. He had fasioned a flashlight to it with some almighty duct tape and a carved devider to keep it aligned with the barrel. The light was one of those little LED bastards that, despite its small size, could light an area up brighter than a flashbang.
His shotgun, a cut-down pump-action Mossberg 590, was fastioned snugly to his back with the handle over his shoulder. It was his backup and "universal key" for unlocking doors and opening people's minds. He had it loaded with self-rifled slugs instead of buckshot. If that didn't work - or if he ran out of ammo - he had a tool that could only be described as a SpecOps crowbar. Damion could open just about anything with the both of them.
He let the rifle sit on his lap and pulled his glasses off to rub his eyes. This trip of theirs would be over soon. Putting his dark tinted ballistic glasses back on, he pondered on what had caused the town to go quiet. It could be anything from a radscorpion attack to running out of energy with their generators. As far as why the people had left, well, maybe they realized they were living in squaler and decided to move. That's what he would do if he knew a way to manufacture enough pain killers to keep him from putting a gun to his own head.
There was a full bottle of the stuff in his pocket. It should be enough to last him the entire mission and then some.
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Posted: Wed Sep 02, 2009 5:14 pm
Riding a flatbed. No matter how often he did it, Joker never felt right in a vehicle. Turning to the newest recruit, Joker speaks up with mild interest.
"You, new one. What's your story? Ex-raider, Wastelander, what? What makes you stand out from the rest of us here? You got the balls to survive out here with the Brotherhood?"
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Posted: Wed Sep 02, 2009 5:33 pm
Damion turned his head to glance at Joker. He scratched at the scars over the right side of his face while seeming to decide if he was going to respond. Reluctantly he let out a breath, seeming to give in. Being an anti-social elitist p***k, this was something of a big deal for him. He dropped his hand to the AK in his lap and moved his head to work some stiffness out of his neck muscles.
"I should be able to fare well," he said. "The training I have recieved is immesurably better than even what the Brotherhood can offer."
If he was going to build up a working trust with these people then he might as well get to know them.
"And what about you?"
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Posted: Wed Sep 02, 2009 5:42 pm
"Pheh. You don't speak enough for a Wastelander.... so I am guessing you are Enclave? Which branch? Myself, I was a Raider at Age 8, became Enclave at 14- my father was ex-Enclave, too. You might have heard of him- Demetri King. The so-called 'one who got away.' Anyways, I decided to leave the Enclave too. And I joined the Brotherhood when I was 17, about six months ago. I haven't looked back since." Said Joker, rolling up a sleeve to expose the Enclave tattoo on his right arm.
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Posted: Wed Sep 02, 2009 6:07 pm
"You talk too much for Enclave."
Despite his words, the young Brother brought a smile to Damion's face. The smile faded as he realized how much older he was compared to the young Brother. Time had a way staying just one step ahead of a person.
"I was in aviation. Then I transferred to infantry."
He had no tattoos to show Joker. All he had were a set of holographic dog tags but he rarely showed them off to people. Shiney things tended to get carried off in the Wasteland. But if the young man really was former Enclave then he would be able to appreciate seeing them.
Damion reached under the collar of his shirt and fished the tags out, holding them up for Joker to see.
"Origional issue from before the war. They wiped its memmory and put in my information. Did you know that each one of these pre-war relics has a cache of memmory that records every single soldier who has ever worn them? If you hack it you can review the files. It is a glitch. These were never meant to be issued to more than one person."
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Posted: Wed Sep 02, 2009 6:21 pm
"Heha! Why do you think I left? The Enclave wasn't for me, Raiding wasn't it either. I doubt the Brotherhood is either, but at least here I get to kill things legally and I get 3 hots and a bed every day. Plus all the nifty armor and weapons I can handle, so there's that at least."
Looking at the dog tags, Joker couldn't help but admire them. They were a rarity amongst the Eastern Branch members- only those with a Sergeant Major rank and above ever got them.
"Damn... those things are quite a catch. Too bad- I left before I was assigned my own set. Ah, well- that's all in the past now."
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Posted: Wed Sep 02, 2009 6:32 pm
He stuffed the dog tags back into his shirt and let a smile remain on his lips. Being in the service of an established military power did have its benifits. At this jucture fighting for the Brotherhood was about as dangerous as just trying to stay alive. With these guys at least you got help when you need it, in whatever form.
"I made some decisions that were not imediatly beneficial to my situation. In the short term, I decided cutting my losses and starting anew was better than the path laid before me with the Enclave."
Seeing how he had transitioned from one harsh military regime to another, less air-conditioned harsh military regime, the wisdom (or lack there of) in his decision was clearly evidant.
"What is your handle?"
Damion was too used to using radeos to communicate. Even though the skills for intercepting, decoding and understanding such broadcasts were as rare as the equipment that used to do the job, he still asked for an alternate name to use when on missions.
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Posted: Wed Sep 02, 2009 6:38 pm
"Handle? Well... thing is, I don't really remember my real name, only my dad's and Stormcall's. I've gone by Joker for the last few years. Even with the Enclave, no one said anything about it- I was always either 'Private Joker,' 'Such and such Specialist Joker,' or 'Captain Joker.'" said Joker with a quizzical look. This wasn't far from the truth- no one really said much apart form Joker. Easy name to remember, even if you couldn't remember the face. That, AND the records would show that he was one of the best Explosives handlers the Enclave had ever trained. Apart from that, the world only knew him as Joker.
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Posted: Wed Sep 02, 2009 6:45 pm
"I did not think they turned seventeen year olds into Captains."
He continued to grin, showing Joker that the comment was in good humor. Arguing over reccords of service was not what he wanted to do. Since he did not know the kid (and was likely well out on his own when Joker was making a name for himself) he would have to learn firsthand by working with him.
"You may call me Havoc."
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Posted: Wed Sep 02, 2009 6:54 pm
"Yeah, apparently out East, they don't care about age- they base you off your abilities as a soldier and a leader. Different branches, different modus operandi. Anyways, it's a pleasure to meet you, Havoc." said Joker extending a hand with a lit cigarette in greeting.
"Want a smoke?"
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