Character Creation Contest #42: Fallout Edition

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stumpy49er

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#1  Edited By stumpy49er

War. War Never Changes.

No Caption Provided

In anticipation of the upcoming role playing game, Fallout 4, which releases November 10 and will probably take over my life, I've decided this next challenge take place in the post nuclear apocalypse world of Fallout.

Here's the challenge: Create two original characters, a protagonist and an antagonist, who live in the world of Fallout.

No Caption Provided

Your protagonist doesn't have to be good. You can have an evil Enclave officer as your protagonist and a heroic Brotherhood of Steel soldier as your antagonist. Or maybe you can have a wasteland merchant be you protagonist and an evil slaver be your antagonist. Maybe a NCR ranger protagonist versus a Legion centurion antagonist. I'm keeping that part open to your imaginations.

To those who've played the game, don't use the character from the game, such as the Vault Dweller from Fallout 1, the Chosen One from 2, the Lone Wanderer from 3 or the Courier from New Vegas. This has to be an Original Character, not the one you made for the game.

For those who are unfamiliar with the world of Fallout out, here's a link with info http://fallout.wikia.com/wiki/Fallout_Wiki also https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fallout_(series)

Basically, Fallout games are set in a post nuclear apocalypse from the years 2161 (the bombs dropped October 23rd, 2077) and 2277. Really, your stories can be in any of those times and at any location in the U.S.

The universe has an atompunk, retrofuturistic setting and artwork influenced by 1950's American culture.

Also there are factions such as Brotherhood of Steel, Enclave, Raiders, New California Republic (on the West Coast) Slavers such as the Legion (again on the West Coast).

There are creatures such as Super Mutants, they're more a race and can (rarely) be friendly:

No Caption Provided

Deathclaws:

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Molerats, Mirelurks, Ghouls (they're more a race and can be friendly), Feral Ghouls (basically zombies), and (gasp) Bloatfly's.

The main source of currency is bottle caps! Yes, bottle caps.

Okay, I understand it might be daunting if you don't know the world of Fallout and don't want to do the research. Blasphemy, research is the best tool for any writer. But since I do't want to discourage people from entering this contest, I will possibly allow Mad Max, A Boy and His Dog or Book of Eli entries, ONLY if there is very little turn out and the task of doing a tiny bit of research is really that daunting.

So to recap.

Rules are:

-Create two original characters. Protagonist and antagonist.

-Set in the world of Fallout.

-No word limit.

-Have fun. I mean it! :)

-Contest ends October 23rd, the day the bombs fell, at Noon Pacific Standard Time. Google time in San Francisco.

That's two weeks from now, get writing.

No Caption Provided

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batkevin74

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Know OF the game, never played them.

Post-apocalypse bottle cap world with mutants, alright then!

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ImpurestCheese

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#3  Edited By ImpurestCheese

Oh crud, I've never played this, and know even less about it.

Seems like this one is going to be a hard to win easy to loose contest

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stumpy49er

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Oh crud, I've never played this, and know even less about it.

Seems like this one is going to be a hard to win easy to loose contest

Just write a post apocalyptic story with the two characters. Maybe throw in a Deathclaw or a Brotherhood of Steel paladin. You'll be fine.

@wildvine can you pin this?

Thanks!

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ImpurestCheese

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#5  Edited By ImpurestCheese
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cbishop

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@stumpy49er: I know nothing about this (or most) video games. But I did send everyone to another website for the Raven Diablo contest, so I guess I'll have to try it. :}

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stumpy49er

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@impurestcheese: Considering most people here don't seem to know much about Fallout, it probably won't make much of a difference to the voters how many references you have to the universe. Just write a good post apocalypse story with a protagonist and an antagonist.

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dngn4774

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#8  Edited By dngn4774

I have an idea but I'm not really motivated for this one. Here's a free outline for anyone wants to use it.

Title- The Scorpion and the Frog

Story- A young man from out of town hires a local bodyguard to escort him into through the roughest part of the wastelands so that he may kill the bandit who murdered his father.

Characters- Hampton Jr. (The young man; nicknamed Hamlet by Bullhorn), Bullhorn (the bodyguard), and Deathstalker (the infamous bandit)

Act 1- The Pact

  • Hampton Jr. hires Bullhorn.
  • While making camp a few miles away, Hamlet discusses his desire for revenge.
  • Before Bullhorn can talk him out of pursuing the Deathstalker, their camp is ambushed by bandits. Together they kill off 3 bandits. The other 2 escape with a briefcase full of caps (Bullhorn's payment).

Act 2- The Chase

  • Bullhorn manages to track them down a forked trail. He and Hamlet split up so that neither bandit escapes with the caps.
  • Bullhorn reaches a dead end once his bandit falls into a pit filled with ghouls.
  • He regroups to find Hampton with a blood stained briefcase. Hampton reveals that the bandits were in league with the Deathstalker and that he now knows where to catch his father's killer.

Act 3- The River

  • Bullhorn follows the lead and crosses an empty river basin. As a sandstorm kicks up. Hamlet spots the Deathstalker's hideout.
  • Plot twist: Hamlet attacks Bullhorn, revealing that he is Deathstalker and that Bullhorn killed his father (another bandit) years ago while protecting a client.
  • Ending: Bullhorn kills Hampton and takes the caps he was promised. Soon after he discovers that Deathstalker's knife was coated in venom and that his own wounds are fatal. As he limps through the sandstorm he collapses .

It's pretty rough, but still more solid than your typical entry.

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cbishop

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#9  Edited By cbishop
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stumpy49er

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cbishop

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wildvine

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Instead of teasing that I may do something, I'll say I probably won't, that way people will be surprised if I do.

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deactivated-57b9eaaf41cf6

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OH YES. Gore, blood, and darkness all in one. I am so going to ace this.

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deactivated-57b9eaaf41cf6

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Wait, does it have to be the known locations of New Vegas and DC or can it be somewhere else besides those 2?

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stumpy49er

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#15  Edited By stumpy49er

@kcsshd: As it says in the OP, anytime between the years 2077 and 2277 in any location of the U.S. as long as it's in the Fallout universe.

Looking forward to reading your entry. :)

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deactivated-57b9eaaf41cf6

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@stumpy49er I hope I can get an entry in. I am going to be busy for the next 2 weeks.

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Jkutz

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@stumpy49er: So how "in-canon" does this have to be? Like do we have to strictly adhere to Fallout or can this just be a Post-Apocalypse story with a Fallout tone?

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stumpy49er

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@jkutz said:

@stumpy49er: So how "in-canon" does this have to be? Like do we have to strictly adhere to Fallout or can this just be a Post-Apocalypse story with a Fallout tone?

I'd prefer the former but will settle for the latter. I don't want to discourage anyone from writing.

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Renzoa

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this is hard one I barely know about fall. I only beat fall out 3

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cbishop

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stumpy49er

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#21  Edited By stumpy49er

@renzoa said:

this is hard one I barely know about fall. I only beat fall out 3

If you beat Fallout 3, you should know plenty. Just base your story in Fallout 3.

I'll be posting my story either tomorrow or Tuesday. Hope there are other entry's.

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deactivated-57b9eaaf41cf6

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I will try posting at some point this week. I hope I can get something in. I hate life, it can be a pain.

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stumpy49er

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@kcsshd: I feel you. It can be tough balancing life.

Don't feel bad if you can't get an entry in time. Hope things are good.

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batkevin74

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#25  Edited By stumpy49er

Fallout New Vegas: Frank Bison and Captain Creek

New California Republic. Year 2280

Frank Bison walked through the wasteland, leading a duo of brahmin (two headed cows) that carried his packs of merchandise. Limping along his side was Old Stumpy, a protectron security bot, whose mechanical left leg had been destroyed and replaced by a metal, peg leg Frank had found in a scrap heap.

He was a junk merchant. He had came from the Mojave wasteland, heading towards New California Republic (NCR) territory. The NCR was fighting a war with Caesar's Legion over the Hoover Dam. Frank had decided it was best to leave Nevada and head towards the greener pastures in California.

Frank was a heavyset, solid as a rock, black man who wore a long duster, a cowboy hat and carried a repeater rifle. He had worked as a ranch hand for thirty years, since he was ten, on brahmin ranches. Then five years ago he had made a career change and became a junk merchant. Better caps for easier work, he figured.

He always traded with bottle caps. It was wasteland currency. A couple times some NCR soldiers tried trading with him using NCR dollars, paper cash. Frank laughed at them. "Bottle caps are the real money in this world." he said.

Some 'new' world powers were always trying to introduce new forms of currency. Even Caesar's Legion had the Denarius and Aureus, which are more valuable than NCR dollars. Frank had vowed never to do business with Caesar's Legion. They were slavers who often burnt down towns and crucified those they did not enslave. He hoped the NCR would win the war against these monsters.

Frank came to a small town on the outskirts of the NCR called Mole Rat Hill. There he had set up shop for a few weeks, selling scrap metals, conductors, batteries and various othe junk. His best customer was a friendly ghoul named Cash, who seemed to have plenty of bottle caps. Frank also did odd jobs for old widow Jenny Jenkins, fixing her windmill, shooting mole rats that came around her farm and providing her with 'company'. He often felt that she was plenty capable of handling the first two tasks by herself.

One morning Frank headed back into town with Old Stumpy and his brahmin. The town had seemed empty and quiet, until he got to the dowtown area, where he always set up shop. There he saw about sixty people, the entire town, gathered around.

"What's this about?" Frank asked a boy named Ted.

"NCR soldiers are here. About six of them." said Ted. "One of em's Captain Creek. He's a hero from the first battle of Hoover Dam. He just arrested some ghoul."

Frank had Old Stumpy watch the brahmin as he moved through the center of the mob. There were six soldiers standing around a ghoul on his knees. He recognized the ghoul, it was Cash. Frank noticed the leader of the soldiers, Captain Creek, who had short, white hair, a scar slashing across his face, carried two pistol revolvers and had a deathclaw gauntlet on his belt.

"This ghoul has been defying the NCR for months." Creek said to the crowd, then looking down at Cash. "I kept telling you Cash, switch to NCR dollars. Stop using those damn bottle caps. NCR dollars go through our banks. They're taxable." addressing the crowd, "When you switch to NCR dollars you help the NCR. We're at war with Caesar's Legion. The NCR needs all the help we can get."

"Five NCR dollars are worth two bottle caps. It's not worth it." replied Cash, whose rotten face had been beaten. "I've been saving bottle caps for nearly two hundred years," ghouls lived a very long time, "I can't just trade them in now."

"You're in NCR territory. We use NCR dollars here." Creek said "I've given you enough warnings, Cash. I'm taking you to jail and confiscating your bottle caps."

"You can't do that." yelled Frank. The crowd around him dispersed. Captain Creek looked at Frank Bison, who continued "You can't arrest a man for something that petty. Then you're going to take his bottle caps? That ain't right!"

"You don't want to obstruct justice, brahmin boy." Creek said, his right hand hovering his pistol. Old Stumpy came limping to Frank's side, his twin lazer gauntlets pointing at Captain Creek, while the NCR soldiers stood facing Frank Bison. Creek relaxed his stance and smiled. "I can tell you're from the Mojave wasteland. Probably grew up in Goodsprings, right?"

"Primm." Frank replied.

"Ah, Primm. I was close. Grew up near the prison." Creek said. "Well, if you don't want to end up in prison, I'd suggest you go about your way."

"It's okay, Frank." said Cash. "I appreciate you standing up for me but I"ll be fine."

Frank looked down at Cash, then back at Captain Creek. "Fine." he said, as he turned and started walking away.

"One other thing, brahmin boy." said Creek. "I want you to go to the nearest trading depot, over in Fort Nix. Then I want you to switch all your bottlecaps over to NCR dollars. Tell em Captain Creek sent you. They'll be sure to take good care of you."

Frank stopped walking. He knew he'd get ripped off or robbed at Fort Nix. He also knew if he didn't do what Captain Creek said, the soldier would track him down, arrest him and rob him. Probably kill him. Frank decided to end it here.

He grabbed his rifle, spun around and shot Captain Creek in the chest. Creek flew backwards to the ground. Frank shot the nearest soldier in the neck, who was caught by surprise, then he scrambled over to Old Stumpy and hid behind the metal protectron.

Old Stumpy fired lasers from his twin gauntlets, taking down two of of the NCR soldiers, who began shooting up the old robot. Frank aimed from behind Stumpy and shot down another soldier, just as a bullet hit Stumpy's face plate, decaptitating the protectron and dropping him to the ground. Frank stood up, aimed his rifle at the last soldier and shot him between the eyes.

Captain Creek tackled Frank to the ground. Creek was wearing body armor that protected him from the rifle shot. He was also wearing his deathclaw gauntlet and began slashing at Frank, who rolled over to Old Stumpy's body. Creek slashes again at Frank, who dodges out of the way. Creek's deathclaw gauntlet impales Stumpy's armor and gets stuck. As Creek struggles to get the gauntlet free, Frank slides a device in Creek's pocket, then runs away.

Captain Creek yanks his deathclaw gauntlet out of Old Stumpy, hears a beeping noise and see's the bottle cap mine Frank stuck in his pocket. The explosion tears Captain Creek into a bloody mess.

"Pants exploded!" the boy,Ted, yells from the crowd.

Frank gathers his brahmin and decides to make his way back to the Mojave. He just killed six NCR soldiers. He'd be a wanted man in the New California Republic.

Frank sighed. "Guess I'll try my luck in New Vegas."

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AdmiralLogic

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@stumpy49er: Patooey! Never even heard of this game till now. Maybe I can figure something out.

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cbishop

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@stumpy49er: Nice. Working on my idea, but it's going slooooowly.

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ImpurestCheese

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#28  Edited By ImpurestCheese

Same here, even worse my PC and laptop are in for repairs so I'm having to use my PDA which takes an age to type anything on

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stumpy49er

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@stumpy49er: how much time/how many days left?

Almost exactly three days from now.

Mass call out time: @cbishop@impurestcheese (I know i didn't need to call you two out, I just figured why not) @tommythehitman@wildvine@kcsshd@jkutz@renzoa@dngn4774@johnjo719

@joygirl (not sure if you still write) @maccyd@jatoe48er (Love the name by the way) @pyrogram@allie_ho@irishlad

(many of these call outs might not post anymore)

@spareheadone@spideyivydaredevilfan@admirallogic@waezi2

I'd love some more entries for this contest. :)

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AdmiralLogic

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@stumpy49er: I don't think I'll be able to make this one, unfortunately. Thanks though.

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stumpy49er

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#31  Edited By stumpy49er

@admirallogic: No worries.

I'm sure the next one will be up in about two weeks or so if you want to enter one.

Provided this one gets more than one entry. ;)

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AdmiralLogic

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@stumpy49er: Great!

I hope I am familiar with the next one. Do you know what it will be?

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stumpy49er

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@admirallogic: It depends on who wins this one. Whoever wins gets to decide what the next contest will be.

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wildvine

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You may be the first to win by default.

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batkevin74

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@wildvine said:

You may be the first to win by default.

It ain't over yet

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wildvine

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@batkevin74:

Hence I used suggestive, rather then declarative statements. I figured you were gonna swing something. Be a pity to break the streak

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batkevin74

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@wildvine: 42nd entry is coming, just behind the 8 ball on this plus the subject matter....which you can't really complain about because it's winners pick so we just suck it up and write so WHEN we win we make a comp the WE like, and the cycle continues.

I do intend to win the 50th comp, just to put you all on notice

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stumpy49er

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@wildvine said:

You may be the first to win by default.

While I'd love another win, I don't like the idea of winning by default, especially on my own contest. Just feels like it'd have an asterisk next to it.

@batkevin74 Counting on you.

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#40  Edited By batkevin74

I hate going to Flagstaff.

But it’s a necessity. They have stuff, I need stuff. It’s just all the saluting and yelling ”Ave!” all the time plus the constant fear that if they find out I’m a former slave-son they’ll draft me into their lunatic army. How they keep it functioning is beyond me! An army made up of people who don’t want to be there.

No Caption Provided

Jerry, my half-blind wobbly donkey, brings me over the ridge to the massive castle complex that is the home base of the Caesar’s Legion. Giant red flags with yellow bulls fly from every possible pole, turret and corner. It’s kinda of impressive, in an oppressive kind of way. I get off Jerry and begin the long walk into the citadel. If I ride in they’ll presume I’m weak and try to hijack me into their army. So it’s an air of strength and superiority I’ve got to project but not too much as to get into trouble. It’s such a hassle coming here. But I’ve got two saddlebags worth of caps which should get me enough supplies to last at least six months before I have to do this again.

“Ave!” shouts a pair of legionaries beside the road. I return their greeting in parrot-like fashion. I can see them eyeballing Jerry so I shift my M199 assault rifle from my left shoulder to the right, just in case one of them tries something. Not that I have two shots in the damn thing, but they don’t know that.

“That bag of bones won’t get much,” laughs one of them.

Before I know it, my mouth opens and let’s fly. “Just enough for me to ride your mother!”

One laughs, the other begins to protest in anger as I keep walking. Don’t make a thing; please don’t make a thing of this. I just need stuff and to go back up to Grandview where you idiots aren’t. I keep going and thankfully nothing more comes of it.

“Let’s go Jerry,”

**

“Purpose?” The man whose knuckles drag along the ground grunts as he scans me up and down. I swear that somewhere in his family history that a grandmother or father was a gorilla or some form of monkey ape.

“Trade,” I say pointing to Jerry’s saddlebags. He nods and grunts. I swear he doesn’t actually understand but I don’t really care. Just let me in monkey boy!

After a few moments, my guess is the command from the brain to the mouth got lost in the cavernous void of his fat skull, he says. “Enter.”

Oh thank you oh armoured chimp, thank you for letting me into your city of military morons! Now to get in, get stuff and go. I head into the sprawling city, it feels like a beehive. Soldiers busy rushing back and forth all hot and bothered. Probably means they’re getting ready for another push into the NCR, which means I better be on double alert. I head down Aquila Way which leads me to their marketplace. It’s a bustling market though its main problem is the lack of ammo because these morons are all about hand-to-hand combat and physical strength rather than firepower. Personally I’d rather shoot someone in the foot and run.

“It has been many moons,” says Harbo the money changer. He’s as tall as he is round which is a strange sight indeed. “How is that bag of bones still alive?”

“Jerry’s a survivor, Harbo,” I reply as unburden Jerry. “Just like me.”

“There is no luck,” Harbo sniggers. “So how much this time Jason?”

“Well how about you count it all up you old shyster,” I reply dropping them on his table. “And none of that special counting.”

He holds his hands up in protest. “I don’t know what you speak of.”

“Yes you do,” I warn him.

“Rates four to one,” he says as he gets his scales.

“Two to one!”

“Caesar’s rules my friend,” he replies. “I don’t need special counting.”

“Pirate!” I mutter which I know Harbo hears coz he flinches like I poked him. He rummages through the sacks placing handful after handful on the scales. I carefully watch him because he’s a moneychanger and often he’ll change it into HIS money if he sees an opening. “You have three left over, odd number but I’ll round up just because it’s you.”

“You’re too kind Harbo,” I look around at the other stalls and booths and slap down some money in front of him. “Here. Look after Jerry,” I shove the money forward and head into the market.

“I am not a donkey motel!” Harbo complains.

I quickly move into throngs of people. Every man who isn’t a slave is eyeballing me because they’re all in this weird alpha male state of mind within this weird cult based on some old Italian hierarchy. My dad once tried to explain it; I got the basics which is mad guy in charge tells all the others to capture more to make the pyramid work. Which is precisely why I live alone!

“How much?” I ask the rope merchant.

“Seven,”

I throw it back at him. “Try four and you’ll have a sale.”

“Seven.”

“You’re not even trying to haggle,” I say as I walk off.

“FIVE!” he snaps tossing it back at me. I smile and hand over the five coins, the rope really is worth seven. Now for some canned goods and ammo.

**

A few hours later I head back to Harbo with my haul. How this primitive screw heads don’t keep more than three shots of the same ammo is beyond me? Well three is better than nothing, meaning that over winter I…

“What the…” I see a semi circle of people gathered around the moneychangers stall and in the centre is a guy dressed like a gladiator parading around with a bloody sword and JERRY’S HEAD! “What the hell are you doing?”

“Are you talking to me?”

“No, I’m talking to the OTHER IDIOT who killed my donkey!” I snap. “Harbo?”

“He paid for it,” Harbo replies dismissively.

“You sold Jerry!?!”

Harbo shrugs as the big idiot puts a hand on my shoulder. “Are you talking to me?”

“YOU OWE ME A DONKEY!” I hiss into his face.

“I put that miserable bag of bones out of its misery. It was weak. Weakness will not be tolerated!”

I step inside him, grab him by the throat and push back causing him to topple backwards onto his bottom. The crowd cheers and jeers him. He scrambles to his feet and begins swinging the sword like a madman. I jump back and swing my rifle round.

“CEASE!”

They all stop and look at the voice; I’m not one of them so I couldn’t give two figs who is yelling. I aim the M199 and fire, putting a bullet through the guy’s mouth which comes out the back of his head showering a few of them in pieces of brain and skull. The rest is a blur.

**

“…ke up!”

I come too partially because of the yell but mostly from the bucket of ice cold water that’s dumped over my head. I try to move but it seems some idiot has inserted a board into my he…stocks, I’m in stocks. Focus! Wake up! Look at the grinning idiot in front of you.

“Who are you?” I cough.

“Garmus,” he grunts tossing the bucket aside. “He’s awake.”

I hear footsteps and a man in a costume resembling a peacock with an armour fetish strides into view. “Hail Caesar!”

“And who are you?” I ask struggling to move.

“So this is the little insect who killed Dromidus?” he says like I’m not even in the room. “I was expecting more.”

“How about you let me out and I’ll show you who’s an insect!”

He pauses and looks me in the eyes, finally seeing me for the first time. “This one is dangerous Dolor. Be careful. Send for me once you’ve broken him. Hail Caesar!”

He leaves and who I thought was Garmus, is actually Dolor, smiles as he heats up some pliers.

**

“RECITE THE CREED!” Dolor yells into my ear. I wish I could, I want too but there’s a stubborn streak in me. He’s pulled out all my fingernails, all my toenails. I have cuts on my eyelids and I’m sure I’ll never pleasure a woman again…

“Four…scored…and seven…” I’m stopped by another hit. I barely feel it due to my bruises having bruises. I just keep my mind on Jerry. That stupid, stubborn, lame, blind, ridiculous beast of burden.

“RECITE! THE CREED!”

“In the…begin…”

**

I don’t know how long this has been happening. Weeks? Months? Decades? I’m broken. I need to submit. I need to join the Legion. I’ve…Jerry. These bastards killed my…let go. Let it go.

“Recite the creed.”

Just say the damn thing idiot! “I…obey. Even unto death. I live…to serve the…greater good.”

“Good. Very good.” Dolor smiles then smashes me in the face. “And from now on in your name is Decimus. Once again.”

**

“Name?”

“My name is Decimus.”

Dolor looks deep into my eyes with a smile of satisfaction. I hate him! But through the moments of cruelty he’s been kind. I feel I know him better than anyone. We share a bond. I…am one of the tribe.

“Hail Caesar!”

Dolor pats my cheek at my heartfelt cry to our leader and we embrace. I belong. I live to serve.

“I shall fetch Garmus,” Dolor spits.

**

I am one with the Legion. I am here to serve. I…have a burning undercurrent of hatred. I am conflicted. I have been broken and rebuilt. But you can still see the cracks from those cracks I reclaim my old life…though I live to serve the will of Caesar. They have taken everything and then made me belong, I want to belong.

But it’s not right.

**

I walk the market place for sword drills and pass the money changers. Something clicks in my mind as I spot a familiar face. Harbo. He doesn’t see me, too busy counting his wares. The damn shyster caused all my pain, all this.

You’ll keep for now. You’ll all keep.

**

“For outstanding service,” Garmus pins a medal on my chest. “Decimus, I award the heart of Taurus!”

My unit erupts in cheers. It has been nearly a year of me fighting my inner conflicts, accepting my place and doing the will of Caesar. We push into NRC territory, they push back. We take hostages to expand our army…well they do. I have become a killer. I think it’s because I don’t want anyone to become what I have, so it is better to kill them than let them live this hollow life I lead.

“Hail Caesar!” I shout.

Garmus smiles as we press foreheads together. “I had my doubts about you Decimus.”

“I live to serve!”

“And proudly!” He claps a hand on my back. “We return to Flagstaff on morrow.”

**

I pass with my unit through the market. There on the cobblestones is the faded grey pool where Jerry was decapitated. I come to a halt and stare at it. The others push past me leaving me to stand like a statue.

“Decimus?” Dolor stands by my side. “What are you doing?”

“I am planning my future,” I say.

“You speak in riddles Decimus,” he huffs and walks off but I reach out and grab his shoulder turning him to face me. “What are you doing?”

“I am righting a wrong,” I seethe as I drive my gladius up into his ribs. To everyone it looks like a manly hug. Dolor convulses on my shoulder. “You broke me. You made me into this thing. Today, live or die it ends. I hope you rot in Hell!” With a push I throw him back. It takes a few moments for people to realise he’s dead but by then I’m into Harbo’s tent. The little bastard doesn’t know what has hit him as I knock him to the floor.

“What are you doing?” he screams.

My gladius severs his right hand at the wrist. “I am freeing myself from a problem YOU caused.” I hold his throat closed to muffle his screams as I jam the amputated hand into his mouth. “You greedy little prick! You caused all this!”

It takes a while but he chokes on his own hand. I stand and turn to see members of my unit standing there, shocked at the brutal display lying around me.

“Decimus?”

I stand and walk forward, head shaking. “My name is Jason!”

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stumpy49er

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@batkevin74: Man, you did not let me down. That was epic. As a Fallout fan, I couldn't ask for a better story.

Bravo.

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cbishop

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@batkevin74: Very cool story. And...

I do intend to win the 50th comp, just to put you all on notice

...only the 50th? Tsk, seven more between this one and that one. ;)

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batkevin74

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@cbishop: oh I may win a few between now and 50, but comp 50 is all mine

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deactivated-57b9eaaf41cf6

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I don't think I will be able to submit an entry. Sorry, maybe next time if I can't get one in by friday.

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cbishop

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@batkevin74: You are about due, but... y'know... can't just let you have it. ;)

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batkevin74

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#46  Edited By batkevin74

@cbishop: Oh I fully expect to be challenged on each and everyone

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cbishop

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@batkevin74: Well, right now, I've got to work on challenging you on this one. lol Sooooo procrastinating on this one, but hey, Youtube search Fallout: Nuka Break for a couple hours of fun. :)

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batkevin74

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@cbishop: That's essentially what I did, googled Fallout, found a wiki and wrote adding in bits when appropriate

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cbishop

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@batkevin74: Yeah, I read the wiki link that stumpy' provided, then watched game story vids on Youtube (and the Nuka Break show, obviously).

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#50  Edited By ImpurestCheese

I tried, and sometimes that's all you can do...

Hunt for the Vixen

The men and women of the tribal village stood watching the invaders, clad in mail and armed to the teeth with spears, machetes and a wide array of antiquated firearms, as they dragged the middle aged woman across the square and bound her to the wooden t-bar structure with straps of black leather. Dismissing the pair of men who had removed her from her home, the most ornately dressed of the invading legion advanced on the bound woman, a thermal lance held in his gauntleted hands.

"People of El Paso, newest province of the Empire." The lance wielder announced as he stabbed the power tool into the woman's back. "For an age you lived in fear of witches, in fear of this woman the Teumessian Vixen, but no longer! You are now free to serve the glory of Caesar, the god king of the wasteland!!" He roared as he stabbed the tool into the woman's back once again, the 'Vixen' in question remaining stoic despite the pain evident on her face.

"Centurion Laelaps sir, we have sighted Hounds of Hecate on the western approach." A voice crackled over the radio strapped to the Centurions arm. "We are in need of some additional men to hold the prisoners while we engage them."

."Use the slaves in the first wave; should Mars wish for them to live past the setting sun, then they will live." Laelaps ordered as he handed the thermal lance to an attending veteran legionnaire. "Women are not to be used, their kind are weak and worthless fighters!!"

"Then why do you fear the 'Vixen'?" The bound woman asked, as a hooded blacksmith came to the front of the assembled legion, before passing Laelaps a chainsaw.

"Because women are akin to all the other monsters in this desert, creatures to be reviled." Laelaps told her as he removed the fuel tank from the chainsaw and splashed a tiny spot of fuel onto the woman's arm. "Your kind is the worst of your rank and wretched species." He stopped and handed the fuel can to the same veteran legionnaire before retrieving his thermal lance. "In the name of the empire I charge you with witchcraft," he stopped and ran the lance down the arm, a river of flame following the tool's path, "assassination of legion personal, plundering resources, abduction..." with every crime he read out Laelaps drew the lance across the burn, more flames licking at the woman's skin, "...the casting of bones and idolising the fake goddess Hecate! How do you plead?"

"Guilty of all and none, you fear a name that is not mine." The woman groaned.

"Insolent wretch!" Laelaps hissed, as he turned to face his men. "Soldiers, take your spears and form ranks. I expect one stroke from each of you! Once done rush to the western approach and bolster the guard there. Now strike...strike in the name of Mars and Caesar!!" He roared as the first man marched forward and stabbed his spear into the 'Vixen's' back with a cry of 'For Caesar!’

One by one with a scream, a spear thrust and the cry of 'For Caesar!!' the legionnaires left the square until only the guards holding the villagers, Laelaps and one single recruit were left staring at the dying woman.

"You're name recruit?" Laelaps asked as the legionnaire got into position, to add his spear to the others.

"Vulpus, Centurion in honour to the commander who liberated our people from tribal barbarism." Vulpus answered in a quiet, almost unsure voice.

"Then Vulpus you get the honour of ridding Rome of this wretched woman." Laelaps stated, as Vulpus took a step forward and stabbed his spear into the woman's neck.

"Centurion," The radio crackled, "We have been overrun, Mars blesses Hecate's Hounds and Daughters on this day and field."

"Impossible but the Vixen is dead, their will should be breaking." Laelaps snarled, before seeing Vulpus remove 'his' helmet to reveal long red hair and a feminine face. "Impossible, women are foul and fetid..." Before he could finish a spear shattered his faceplate and stabbed into his skull. As he fell the guards came rushing in only to be felled with swift gunshots as the vixen drew her sidearm and fired.

"As for you..." She hissed, as she walked over to the hostages, only stopping to pick up the fuel can. "You cowards allowed the elder to suffer for you, allowed her to die. May the goddess curse this village and all who dwell here."

"Please Vixen, what can we do to...,

"You can burn." The vixen whispered, as she handed one of the villagers the fuel can. "Redemption will come to you only through fire."