FALLOUT: BE TO BLAME

[thejanitor413]

Philadelphia, City of Brotherly Love.

I watched a man go down Easy Street and shoot an 'asshole' for talking too damn loud.

Everything happens cause of love - the presence or absence.

Spoiler: nobody ever loved me like she do me.

~

2300.

Philadelphia is still as shitty as it was when a man went to take the Liberty Bell home and went home telling all his friend about the ugly stain of pre-war America left, a tasteless City with no reason to still be standing after all this goddamn time.

Washington has greatly fallen under Brotherhood Rule, Elder Lyons led by example, then his sorry ass went and died - they all went together - his daughter passed and when Maxson took over, he was content enough to fuck off with everything they'd built and took three-fourths of the Brotherhood to New England. The Outcasts flocked back to him and his rule, and now Washington's the typa' place everyone wants to be.

That was about ten years ago - since, they finished whatever the fuck they were up to in Boston, and now the BOS is spread all over. The Home Plate is Washington, The Commonwealth is a foothold in some "Minutemen Nation". But now, the BOS is back to what it was all about in DC.

Forces have been sent far and wide on the East Coast to combat all mutant threats and try do a turn of good for the people who've suffered Mutants, Ghouls, Synths and all other hellish abominations - and while dealing with the Mutants, they're out scrounging for tech too. Ripping that model airplane with the batteries in the back out of a baby settler's hands.

Philly is one of the places they're working - who knows why they even give a shit about - but the BOS went out there, and when you just loose some men and tell 'em "get it done", nothing good ever happens.

...

common roles

(2/15)
Easy Street City - the most ironic place to be in the Mutant-held Capital of Pennsylvania. Easy Street used to be the kinda' "Red Light District" of the City, in the aftermath of the war, it had enough of the essentials for settlers to take a stab at tryin to establish something. They held a couple blocks, then the Mutants came, and pushed them back to just Easy Street, then they took half the street. Now the City is all inside of some shitty old hotel, holding out for a hero 'till the end of the night.

- MAYOR FRANKIE RUSSO, @DatOnePerson
The Mayor of Easy Street, usually who everyone looks to when times get rough - imagine how long eyes have been on you. How the fuck are you going to save us from Muties?

- EASY STREET SECURITY (0/2)
The Law, along side the Mayor, they're more like the Mayor's bodyguards - also the most heavily armed men in the City besides maybe the vendors. They're used to be ten of you, the others we're brave enough to die for these people.

- VENDORS (1/2)
Every City has Business, Easy Street has the fucking ESSENTIALS, so what are you? One of the last two vendors in town? Do you hoard and sell food and drink? Gun Nut? Bar?

TONY BUBBLY, THE BUBBLY FAMILY, @Shimac's Stew

- CITIZENS (0/10)

(0/4)
A Tribe Called "Fest". Their thinking? "If we're all going to die - it oughta' be fun.", made up of a few Easy Street runaways and rejects, they've got a small community set up along the caravan route, they haven't turned to robbing or nothing yet, surprisingly. They just kinda' sit beyond safety, partying until they die.

- PARTY PEOPLE (0/4)
Nicer way of saying "junkie".

(1/4)
Rotting Roads Caravan Company, local to Philly', they're coming from out New Vegas way, far from the West - all the competition is out there, so here they are out East, making contacts, or, they have been a while, they've been here longer than even most of the survivors of Easy Street City, just a well-established and well-armed company.

- CARAVAN MASTER JAMISON, @MAXYOURFRIEND
A Western Local, you're far from home, been far, a long time, more money made out here.

- PACK MULE (0/1)
The Brahmin died, you carry the shit now, you took up an apprenticeship with the Caravan to learn the tools of the trade, you have a whole year left of "learning".

- CARAVAN GUARDS (0/2)
You're also from out West, you've been paid real good, treated better, working for the Caravan - never a hiccup on your watch.

(2/3)

The remnants of a Squad sent to Philadelphia, you're the final three after desertion in your ranks, you're loyal to Maxson's Brotherhood, putting Tech' and Mutant-Slaying above imperialism.

- PALADIN TOBIAS, @Dazor
The Citadel's favored killer.

- SQUIRE JULIUS CROSS, @Landon
Overshadowed, Overlooked, Loyal to nothing nice.

- SCRIBE (0/1)
Fucking geek.

(2/3)

You're not Maxson's group of pansies. You fight for the true Brotherhood, Lyons'. There's people out here been dealt a bad hand - you don't got all this gear, all this weaponry, all this fucking know-how, to not step in the way of them and whatever the fuck is in this city. Be a hero, Lyons' daughter died saving DC, this isn't any different and you ain't too important to die for something righteous.

- KNIGHT CYRIL INGELRAM, @MyolesMorales
Former Right-Hand of the Local Paladin, former Squire too - he has lost his way, the Lyon's Pride. Who are we if not heroes, born and bred to fight for those who have no means to do it themselves.

- SCRIBE ELMER, @pill
A remnant of a once noble cause, still serving so nobly, so long as there's tech'.

- INITIATE (0/1)
They saved you from Mutants, the Knight and Scribe, there was another Initiate they had - maybe it's a bad omen that he died defending your village and you took his place. There's no town left for you, the Mutants destroyed everything in Philly' but Easy Street City - you're taking your chances joining the Brotherhood, they don't usually take outsiders, but they're fucking desperate outcasts.

(4/5)
Mutant Isolation - it's not real. By Isolate, you mean take the whole fucking city and close it off for yourself. The Philly' Mutants came from the Washington State Vaults, but, that doesn't explain how they haven't gone extinct out here. Some folks in whispers'll tell you they take the bodies home and stick you with as much Rads as it takes to get you walking in their army again.

- OVERLORD (0/1)
You were a Dweller pre-war, you had a family that loved you, a house you owned, a car you'd almost paid off. They threw you in a Vault and pumped that bitch full of gas. You got it the easiest. Some others went crazy, killed themselves, other's skin melted off and went feral, you even saw a couple turn into fucking monsters - you came out alright. Intelligent too. Only reason you're leading this band of Mutants is because you're the only one who can form a coherent thought.

- MUTANTS (4/4)
So far, some Ghoul, with a horrible amount of Birth Defects,

GAIZKA, the LOST, @G R U G
MEATHEAD, @Doom Demon
KILLFUCK, @Deek29
LOU, @dusty

custom applications, include discord, the more creative, and the more effort put into it, the likelier of a better role and more effort will be put into your story as we do acception convos.
group applications endorsed.
​

 

[CreekMando]

you FUCKER!!!

 

[Candle]

uhmm this is stolen valor

 

[Jumbi-sama]

MORE MORE FALLOUT MOREEE

 

[thejanitor413]

you FUCKER!!!

i did fallout hell's empty...

I been doing this before it was cool...

 

[MyolesMorales]

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......ERROR......

\\\ THIS FILE IS %^$%$%* \\\



THE OUTCAST KNIGHT CYRIL


THIS LAND WAS MADE FOR YOU AND ME...
​

Knight Cyril was born to two nobodies, a momma and a poppa. He was born in the Capital Wasteland; he and his parents were drifters. Their ideology in this world was, move it, or lose it. That was of course referring to the life that was so very delicate in the shell of a world he inhabited. He grew up as normal as it could get for a child out there, until he was thirteen years old. That's when tragedy struck, as his parents were kidnapped by Super Mutants, ambushed on a dusty trail to some nowhere settlement for a quick trade...

The same fate would come to Cyril, if it wasn't for a group of men clad in shining armor coming to his rescue. Their weapons cleaved through the Super Mutants, leaving burning holes and sending the ashes of the Super Mutants sizzling into the whipping wasteland wind. Cyril felt two things, sorrow for the loss of his parents, and a gnawing appetite for vengeance against the green menaces.

The Brotherhood Knights exchanged glances as they took the young Cyril and initiated him into their Chapter. Years passed as he grew older, wiser, and more adept in the ways of the metallic monks. It was until the Super Mutants got bolder in the Capital Wasteland, and splinter groups of traitors...Known as Outcasts, separated themselves from Elder Lyons' command. Years passed as he served with valor, duty, and honor in the ranks of the Brotherhood. He had earned the rank of Knight after dutifully serving in the conflicts of 2277. He had grown into his own man, with the ideals of Elder Lyons' future for the Capital Wasteland, and for assisting their fellow man. What's the use of hoarding all this wonderful technology, if you cannot share it with the downtrodden people of the Wastes? The good people, anyway...

It was years later where another divide had begun. Elder Lyons' legacy had died out. Cyril's hero had passed away from old age, and Sentinel Sarah Lyons, his only daughter had died years later. Her warrior spirit and honorable way of leading was dangerous, callous, but brave. She had died in action, of which Cyril was not present at the site of her death, but he was certainly fielded during this time. He then recognized Maxson...The child, the boy...His ascent to power in the Brotherhood was nigh undeniable, and out of utter respect for the Lyons before him, he had followed him. However, Cyril harbored contempt for Maxson return to former Brotherhood ideology. Cyril considered it moderate, the amalgam of assisting the people of the Wastes, and coveting and harboring the technology they deemed "too dangerous" or as if the people were undeserving of what they deemed too advanced and dangerous to wield...

Cyril bit his tongue, however. Although harboring his thoughts of how he believed Maxson's new Brotherhood was moderate and wouldn't change anything in the Wastes for the better. He abhorred the way the Elders of the West Coast Chapters approved, almost worshipped Maxson. This boy, by just returning the traditional way of the Brotherhood garnered support from almost every Brotherhood Chapter. The thought of it sounded preposterous in his head, Maxson, a child could be almost adored like a god to them. An idol, that is what bothered Cyril the most.

He was then assigned to detail, to none other than Philly. The assignment seemed simple, and Cyril could take his mind off of whatever Maxson had planned for the rest of the Brotherhood. A simple aid assignment, to patrol this Waste and ensure that the people are protected and safe. That was the duty of a Brotherhood Knight, and of all brothers and sisters of their Chapter.

​

This is where Cyril diverges path with Maxson's heresy.

Knight Cyril argued with his Paladin as they encountered a group of Muties began harassing the good folk of a settlement. This was their solemn duty, to protect those who could not defend themselves from the monsters and freaks of the Wasteland. But his Paladin forbade him, the one person he thought he could trust. This is where Cyril knew, Maxson's poisonous ideals had infected the very people he thought he could trust.

Cyril finalized his status as an Outcast, bitterly. He had insulted the Paladin, and the "Elder" Maxson himself. Saying that Lyons' way is the only way, and that the Paladin has forgotten the very roots of their Chapter. Cyril knew he damned himself, but in the heat of the moment, he had revealed his hatred for Maxson's new Brotherhood, and has declared himself an Outcast. Something he'd never thought he'd do; these were the people he actively fought against in Lyons' Brotherhood. He then went his separate way, vowing that if he and the Paladin would ever encounter each other again, they must end the argument in a duel. To prove who is right, they must test each other's might. Cyril broke his oath to Maxson, but in his heart when he vowed to Maxson...He never really meant it.

He now wanders Philly with his fellow Outcasts, helping the weak, meek and downtrodden. He is the Outcast Knight, like the heroic Knights of old, he is prepared to give his life to give the people of Philly the slimmest chance of survival against the Mutie freaks that threaten the peace of the good folk.

The Way of Lyons is The Only Way.


​

 

[Landon]

JULIUS CROSS
Squire-In-Training

Certified waterboy for the Brotherhood of Steel. For about all his life, being born within the walls of the Brotherhood of Steel, Julius has been caddying around supplies for the men in shiny hulking armor; never having stepped foot in such a thing himself. But what if he wanted to? What if he wanted to fight for what Maxson believed in? Who gives a shit. He's always been too young to fight, no matter how old he ever got.

Julius wonders if he should've turned heel and went with those Outcast fellas. Maybe they'd give him the time of day -- but, alas, a pipe dream. He knew they shunned the way of Maxson, and that wasn't a road Julius was willing to live by. So, until then, he has no other choice but to continue the life of servitude to some prick who hardly cares he exists, in hopes that one day he'll get to be that prick.

What good are morals in a world that wants to kill you?
"Ad Victoriam, I guess."​

 

[pill]

"ELMER"
BROTHERHOOD SCRIBE

​

Born to the Capital Wastes in Washington, D.C. on the 1st of December - 2254, Elmer is now closing in on 46 years of age as an acting serviceman of the Brotherhood of Steel. Before his journey as a measly scribe, Elmer had a pretty linear background of being a barterer & merchant across the wastes, known to have a grand fascination among his clients, his fascination of old-world technologies spread across the wastes that could unlock the potential to an elite civilization with a governing body.

During the year 2277, just aging 23, albeit being a pink-collar merchant 'n' not much of a techno-nerd, he wanted to give the life of prospecting technology a try with a job he'd find at a quest board, the quest had mentioned being directly managed from a hideout location at a General Atomics factory and to deliver the lost'n'found tech upon arrival with no questions asked. After wandering for a good while, gunning down some nasty creatures & sneaking around buildings with patrols of super mutants -- area seemed pretty fucking vague, metals clanking together, pipes rustling & falling, the foundation sounding like it'll collapse in about five more years of constant degradation -- then there it was, men & women alike in some decent gear pointing guns towards his face, the fool had pissed himself, figuratively, frozen up & interrogated by the troops, all his responses had a certain fear factor in them, ultimately leading up to him agreeing with doing more of these "quests" for what was now identified to him as the Brotherhood...

A few years had gone & passed, and to him, it was a life sentence as a "war" veteran Brotherhood scribe after a bit of prospecting service & learning all about the basics of science, helping around too. He was assigned to a detachment that somehow ended up at the wrong place, finally becoming a remnant of the Brotherhood after, by speculation, were dead. Elmer wasn't really into politics, not anymore - his hand was forever forced... Just as long as he got a job involving technology, he was happy to help and put his research to use, it was self-interested, but it got the job done. Now, he's lost somewhere deep inside Philadelphia with two other fraternal colleagues, waiting on a new purpose...

 

[Craw]

i did fallout hell's empty...

I been doing this before it was cool...

Checkmate

 

[Dazor]

Spoiler: Theme

Paladin Tobias - The Remnant of Hope

Tobias Hayes was born in the belly of the ruins of Baltimore in 2241. Growing up amidst the chaos and danger of a post-apocalyptic world, Tobias learned to survive from an early age. His parents were settlers, scraping out a living in the remnants of Easy Street City, trying to rebuild a semblance of normalcy in a place where death lurked around every corner. Tobias quickly became adept at scavenging, repairing old tech he stumbled across, and defending himself and his family from the near threats that plagued their lives, from raiders to feral ghouls.

At the age of 17, Tobias was swayed by stories of the mighty Brotherhood of Steel. Impressed by their discipline, advanced weaponry, and the sense of purpose they exuded in trying to bring peace to the wasteland, Tobias decided to join the Brotherhood. He left his family behind and travelled to Washington, D.C., where he enlisted in the Brotherhood under the leadership of Elder Lyons who had warped the Brotherhood into a different breed compared to the East Coast.

Tobias excelled in his training, showing a natural aptitude for combat and strategy. His instructors nicknamed him "Ironclad" for his unyielding determination and resilience. He participated in numerous operations to secure pre-war technology and eradicate mutant threats, rising through the ranks to become a Paladin. During his four tours in D.C., Tobias developed a reputation for his tactical acumen and his unwavering commitment to the Brotherhood's mission no matter the cost.

In 2300, as the Brotherhood began expanding its influence across the East Coast, Tobias was tasked with leading a mission back to his birthplace, Philadelphia. The city had fallen under the threat of super mutants who had established a stronghold in the region. The Brotherhood's objective was to eliminate the mutant threat and reclaim the city for humanity.

Tobias, now a seasoned Paladin, returned to Philadelphia with a squad of Brotherhood soldiers. However, the mission quickly went awry. The mutants were more numerous and better organized than anticipated, leading to heavy casualties. Many of Tobias's men deserted, leaving him with only a few loyal soldiers—a Squire, eager to prove himself, and a Scribe, whose knowledge of pre-war technology was invaluable.

Tobias and his remaining squad took refuge in the ruins of the old hotel that now served as the last bastion of human resistance. The survivors looked to him for leadership, desperate for a hero to save them from the encroaching mutant menace. Tobias, burdened by the weight of their expectations and the loss of his comrades needs to eradicate the mutant threat.

​

Spoiler: P.S.

@thejanitor413 I LOVE YOUR EVENTS BUT YOU ADD TOO MANY SLOTS

 

[G R U G]

Spoiler: The end of your world.

---

​

Vision breaking apart into a crystalline pattern as the gas began to envelop her, the ice cold sensation of their own ribs slowly piercing whatever remained of her chest. The final thing she saw were her few remaining fingers barely hanging on by strained tendons before her scalp melted past her eyes. Reaching out, she tried to feel a path across those steel halls numb to the touch, another voice calling out. Shambling over to the source, trying to embrace it only to fall through, enveloped by a warmth that seeped in, drowning her from the inside.


Light bore the membrane as a figure rose, dripping with the afterbirth of their transformation. They stalked the halls for some time, gathering their bearings while blackened eyes fastened about the ceiling followed every step. Grime and pus now slathered the walls and floor, coagulating in the crevices that began to show its ruin. There were survivors, though death would have been a better fate for them. Some would crawl away whimpering, bloated tongues perpetually choking on their last words; while others lashed out in a frenzy. None dared to make contact though. It was only when one abomination, still stuck in its own remains, was pulled free by the figure that the others reared their heads out in a childlike awe.




Directed by those dithering signs, now with a small horde shambling after, the figure stumbled upon a wall-like indent that was locked shut, another blackened eye glaring from above. Something hidden. Something protected. They traced a finger by the labyrinthine complex, trying to find a faulty panel to rip out, any weakness in the architecture. It all felt so familiar.

Spoiler: . . .

A room full of hairless apes, gnawing on their cigarettes while working over a blue sheet sprawling with lines and measurements, a newfound scripture dictating the workings of mans sepulchre.

A clang echoed and shook, the figure rushing over to investigate it. Some serpentine hatchling had managed to pry off a grille, barely squeezing through the hole it left and disappearing into the dark yawning. Several more hits would occasionally be heard, then a silence that stretched on for minutes; before a distant churning traveled, followed by screams that were quickly choked out. Retracing their steps, untouched inhabitants were seen crawling away from the now open indent, donned in white cloaks as they began to sink into their own pooling flesh. There was no saving them, the figure shambling by and into the pristine room now filled with that stagnant gas. A corpse lay by a downed chair, neck torn open with the serpentine abomination gnawing on some apparatus clamped to the deceased's arm. The figure brushed the hatchling aside, reaching down and commandeering the device, donning it themselves. A practiced motion.

Spoiler: . . .

Throwing on a white jacket and an ebony pillbox hat, one last kiss is had before she straps a plastic lump to her wrist and steps out into their lawn, moving over to a Corvega Blitz that glistened with a scarlet paintjob.

Now back outside of the room, once again stepping over the festering pools of flesh and striding through the corridors with purpose, eventually finding themselves at a towering circular gate with a cog shaped design to it. The figure moves over to a console, removing the adapter plug from their device and connecting it, pressing down on that withered button before alarms rang out. The other abominations cowered in fear while the figure stood against the grinding gate, opening up to an ethereal light that blinded them all, a voice in the crowd speaking up, chanting with a zealous fervor.

Gaizka!​

Gaizka! ​

Gaizka!​

Spoiler: The Journey Ahead

They traversed those empty ruins and ashen wastes in a blind pilgrimage. Acclimating to their husks, Gaizka the only one to have kept a mobile form. Bones and skin meddled into a towering exoskeleton, plates shifting against one another, deriding man in its design. The tribe's path was uncertain, lives gone at a whim. Slumping over as their malformed bodies finally gave in, offering their blood in battle against beasts that lurk past natures design. Every life lost was buried or shied away from the world by Gaizka's hands. Gaizka. Few had retained their speech, and even if garbled or strained, that title began to engrain itself each time it was spoken.

A patrol could be seen past the horizon, clad in uniforms that entailed civility amongst themselves. Gaizka ushered the horrors down, crouching amongst rusted cars and concrete barriers. The figure crept forward, until they rose and revealed themselves to the strangers. Two voices split between that enclosed mouth for a moment before a shot rang out. The tribe sprung from their cover, a cacophony shaking the soldiers -- frantic firing raining down over the horde before the gunners were set upon, bloodied and torn in only a moment. Gaizka stood silent, hands grasping the air above their bullet ridden plating.

Spoiler: . . .

Wounds shrieking against the snow, breath barely making it out of that iron maiden. Phantoms. From all sides. The best soldiers we had to offer, cut down by the air around them.

Violence remained as the ultimate form of ruling. No matter what suzerain was propped up against that charred throne, the dagger kept hold in its back. Days of wandering, searching for life and purpose -- now reduced to skittering low by the rubble in search of shelter. Nearly every trace of civilization raised its barrels high towards the horde, only the few backwater slums that were too desolate to fight back allowing their presence. With the gloom of an end to their journey hanging low, there were only about seven of their tribe left, a number too small to fight against what came after them.


The windows shuddered as if hit with pistons. Roaring machinery with repeating chopping sounds beneath. It hovered outside the building they had taken refuge in, before a loud bang could be heard, shattering the asphalt surrounding it. A faint whirring echoed, breaking against the ground with each stomp, footsteps sticking close. The tribe dared not move until Gaizka spotted one of their members, a serpentine mutant, slowly crawling towards them from the rubble it had been searching. Scrambling out from cover, a voice snarled out orders, commanding red fire that dug into Gaizka and their environment. They managed to grasp them and dive behind the rubble, as to divert attention from the rest of their tribe. Wounds sizzling, a tear escaped Gaizka as they lowered the mutant, grabbing a large rock instead and hurdling themselves towards the force. Their biological plating stood fast, maddened swings managing to crack open the ones unlucky to have charged forward. It wasn't enough. Gaizka was slowly brought down to their knees, the adrenaline unable to keep them standing anymore. Their eyes shut in acceptance, hushed prayers interrupted by the roar of gunfire filling the room.

Spoiler: . . .

Covered in blood and steel, he lay there as the cold enveloped him, too weak to even move. The last thing he remembered was the march of reinforcements, a hand reaching out and pulling him away.

It continued till the remains of their ears rang, yet they kept huddled long after it stopped. Slowly rising, they opened their eyes to weapons now trained on them, though none fired. Standing amongst the gore of a small platoon were giants, a wide range of sickly green, muscles barely contained by their skin, almost tall enough to rival Gaizka if it weren't for their permanent hunch. First the figure hesitated, but soon their voices spoke out the crowd. Bracing themselves for a volley of gunfire, they were instead met with a brutish voice. Greetings and questions were exchanged, weapons lowered in an almost innocent intrigue. The giants told of their roots in "Washington", how their forces were driven by some clandestine matter known as "F.E.V", a hunt for more being their only goal. Yet they had fallen to ruin, crushed by powers all throughout the wasteland that carried the sole intention of annihilating them.

Though they spoke with the cadence of confusing drabble, and most seemed to be bloodthirsty with their sloshing of entrails, it was not beyond that of man's cruelty. Shreds of their past still lingered, coming through by Gaizka's words. For what reason would mutants harm one another? To Gaizka, they were all victims of a world that couldn't stand the beings it held. So the figure spoke of their tribe's plans, to find life and purpose -- something more than hiding in fear of what lay beyond the ruins. And after their winding conversation, the two crowds decided to band together, setting out into the world as one.

A small force against the wasteland had formed. And with the strength of the giants fueled by the guidance of Gaizka, they would begin to thrive. It wasn't long until they encountered other mutants, groups that were barely managing to survive, littered all throughout the ruins of an long gone world. They were quick to join their cause, the horde bolstering into an army. Months of traveling, battles fought, ground gained; a new order was building. One that didn't shy away from the abominations that were forced to stay in hiding or be met with death. One capable of fighting back. This was no longer an extermination. This was war. And at the helm of their cause stood no longer a figure, but a leader.

​

GAIZKA, OF THE LOST​

---

Spoiler: boring ahh OOC stuff

DISCORD: g_r_u_g
TIMEZONE: CET
APPLYING FOR: Ovelord

 

[Deek29]

KILLFUCK

Killfuck's story begins somewhere not known to him. In fact, none of his story is known to him. He's just a mutant, after all. He earned his name from the overlord because of his aptitude in "FUCKING KILLING", which is his signature catchphrase. What path will he choose in the wasteland? Or rather, how will he follow the path his overlord chooses?
No ornate high-effort application from me. Fuck you for expecting one.

Deek29
EST (GMT -5)
Mutant
Discord : bigmango6868

 

[thejanitor413]

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View attachment 35428

THE OUTCAST KNIGHT CYRIL
View attachment 35425

THIS LAND WAS MADE FOR YOU AND ME...
​

Knight Cyril was born to two nobodies, a momma and a poppa. He was born in the Capital Wasteland; he and his parents were drifters. Their ideology in this world was, move it, or lose it. That was of course referring to the life that was so very delicate in the shell of a world he inhabited. He grew up as normal as it could get for a child out there, until he was thirteen years old. That's when tragedy struck, as his parents were kidnapped by Super Mutants, ambushed on a dusty trail to some nowhere settlement for a quick trade...

The same fate would come to Cyril, if it wasn't for a group of men clad in shining armor coming to his rescue. Their weapons cleaved through the Super Mutants, leaving burning holes and sending the ashes of the Super Mutants sizzling into the whipping wasteland wind. Cyril felt two things, sorrow for the loss of his parents, and a gnawing appetite for vengeance against the green menaces.

The Brotherhood Knights exchanged glances as they took the young Cyril and initiated him into their Chapter. Years passed as he grew older, wiser, and more adept in the ways of the metallic monks. It was until the Super Mutants got bolder in the Capital Wasteland, and splinter groups of traitors...Known as Outcasts, separated themselves from Elder Lyons' command. Years passed as he served with valor, duty, and honor in the ranks of the Brotherhood. He had earned the rank of Knight after dutifully serving in the conflicts of 2277. He had grown into his own man, with the ideals of Elder Lyons' future for the Capital Wasteland, and for assisting their fellow man. What's the use of hoarding all this wonderful technology, if you cannot share it with the downtrodden people of the Wastes? The good people, anyway...

It was years later where another divide had begun. Elder Lyons' legacy had died out. Cyril's hero had passed away from old age, and Sentinel Sarah Lyons, his only daughter had died years later. Her warrior spirit and honorable way of leading was dangerous, callous, but brave. She had died in action, of which Cyril was not present at the site of her death, but he was certainly fielded during this time. He then recognized Maxson...The child, the boy...His ascent to power in the Brotherhood was nigh undeniable, and out of utter respect for the Lyons before him, he had followed him. However, Cyril harbored contempt for Maxson return to former Brotherhood ideology. Cyril considered it moderate, the amalgam of assisting the people of the Wastes, and coveting and harboring the technology they deemed "too dangerous" or as if the people were undeserving of what they deemed too advanced and dangerous to wield...

Cyril bit his tongue, however. Although harboring his thoughts of how he believed Maxson's new Brotherhood was moderate and wouldn't change anything in the Wastes for the better. He abhorred the way the Elders of the West Coast Chapters approved, almost worshipped Maxson. This boy, by just returning the traditional way of the Brotherhood garnered support from almost every Brotherhood Chapter. The thought of it sounded preposterous in his head, Maxson, a child could be almost adored like a god to them. An idol, that is what bothered Cyril the most.

He was then assigned to detail, to none other than Philly. The assignment seemed simple, and Cyril could take his mind off of whatever Maxson had planned for the rest of the Brotherhood. A simple aid assignment, to patrol this Waste and ensure that the people are protected and safe. That was the duty of a Brotherhood Knight, and of all brothers and sisters of their Chapter.

​

This is where Cyril diverges path with Maxson's heresy.

Knight Cyril argued with his Paladin as they encountered a group of Muties began harassing the good folk of a settlement. This was their solemn duty, to protect those who could not defend themselves from the monsters and freaks of the Wasteland. But his Paladin forbade him, the one person he thought he could trust. This is where Cyril knew, Maxson's poisonous ideals had infected the very people he thought he could trust.

Cyril finalized his status as an Outcast, bitterly. He had insulted the Paladin, and the "Elder" Maxson himself. Saying that Lyons' way is the only way, and that the Paladin has forgotten the very roots of their Chapter. Cyril knew he damned himself, but in the heat of the moment, he had revealed his hatred for Maxson's new Brotherhood, and has declared himself an Outcast. Something he'd never thought he'd do; these were the people he actively fought against in Lyons' Brotherhood. He then went his separate way, vowing that if he and the Paladin would ever encounter each other again, they must end the argument in a duel. To prove who is right, they must test each other's might. Cyril broke his oath to Maxson, but in his heart when he vowed to Maxson...He never really meant it.

He now wanders Philly with his fellow Outcasts, helping the weak, meek and downtrodden. He is the Outcast Knight, like the heroic Knights of old, he is prepared to give his life to give the people of Philly the slimmest chance of survival against the Mutie freaks that threaten the peace of the good folk.

The Way of Lyons is The Only Way.


​

JULIUS CROSS
Squire-In-Training
View attachment 35433
Certified waterboy for the Brotherhood of Steel. For about all his life, being born within the walls of the Brotherhood of Steel, Julius has been caddying around supplies for the men in shiny hulking armor; never having stepped foot in such a thing himself. But what if he wanted to? What if he wanted to fight for what Maxson believed in? Who gives a shit. He's always been too young to fight, no matter how old he ever got.

Julius wonders if he should've turned heel and went with those Outcast fellas. Maybe they'd give him the time of day -- but, alas, a pipe dream. He knew they shunned the way of Maxson, and that wasn't a road Julius was willing to live by. So, until then, he has no other choice but to continue the life of servitude to some prick who hardly cares he exists, in hopes that one day he'll get to be that prick.

What good are morals in a world that wants to kill you?
"Ad Victoriam, I guess."​

Spoiler: Theme

Paladin Tobias - The Remnant of Hope

Tobias Hayes was born in the belly of the ruins of Baltimore in 2241. Growing up amidst the chaos and danger of a post-apocalyptic world, Tobias learned to survive from an early age. His parents were settlers, scraping out a living in the remnants of Easy Street City, trying to rebuild a semblance of normalcy in a place where death lurked around every corner. Tobias quickly became adept at scavenging, repairing old tech he stumbled across, and defending himself and his family from the near threats that plagued their lives, from raiders to feral ghouls.

At the age of 17, Tobias was swayed by stories of the mighty Brotherhood of Steel. Impressed by their discipline, advanced weaponry, and the sense of purpose they exuded in trying to bring peace to the wasteland, Tobias decided to join the Brotherhood. He left his family behind and travelled to Washington, D.C., where he enlisted in the Brotherhood under the leadership of Elder Lyons who had warped the Brotherhood into a different breed compared to the East Coast.

Tobias excelled in his training, showing a natural aptitude for combat and strategy. His instructors nicknamed him "Ironclad" for his unyielding determination and resilience. He participated in numerous operations to secure pre-war technology and eradicate mutant threats, rising through the ranks to become a Paladin. During his four tours in D.C., Tobias developed a reputation for his tactical acumen and his unwavering commitment to the Brotherhood's mission no matter the cost.

In 2300, as the Brotherhood began expanding its influence across the East Coast, Tobias was tasked with leading a mission back to his birthplace, Philadelphia. The city had fallen under the threat of super mutants who had established a stronghold in the region. The Brotherhood's objective was to eliminate the mutant threat and reclaim the city for humanity.

Tobias, now a seasoned Paladin, returned to Philadelphia with a squad of Brotherhood soldiers. However, the mission quickly went awry. The mutants were more numerous and better organized than anticipated, leading to heavy casualties. Many of Tobias's men deserted, leaving him with only a few loyal soldiers—a Squire, eager to prove himself, and a Scribe, whose knowledge of pre-war technology was invaluable.

Tobias and his remaining squad took refuge in the ruins of the old hotel that now served as the last bastion of human resistance. The survivors looked to him for leadership, desperate for a hero to save them from the encroaching mutant menace. Tobias, burdened by the weight of their expectations and the loss of his comrades needs to eradicate the mutant threat.

​

Spoiler: P.S.

@thejanitor413 I LOVE YOUR EVENTS BUT YOU ADD TOO MANY SLOTS

"ELMER"
BROTHERHOOD SCRIBE
View attachment 35438
​

Born to the Capital Wastes in Washington, D.C. on the 1st of December - 2254, Elmer is now closing in on 46 years of age as an acting serviceman of the Brotherhood of Steel. Before his journey as a measly scribe, Elmer had a pretty linear background of being a barterer & merchant across the wastes, known to have a grand fascination among his clients, his fascination of old-world technologies spread across the wastes that could unlock the potential to an elite civilization with a governing body.

During the year 2277, just aging 23, albeit being a pink-collar merchant 'n' not much of a techno-nerd, he wanted to give the life of prospecting technology a try with a job he'd find at a quest board, the quest had mentioned being directly managed from a hideout location at a General Atomics factory and to deliver the lost'n'found tech upon arrival with no questions asked. After wandering for a good while, gunning down some nasty creatures & sneaking around buildings with patrols of super mutants -- area seemed pretty fucking vague, metals clanking together, pipes rustling & falling, the foundation sounding like it'll collapse in about five more years of constant degradation -- then there it was, men & women alike in some decent gear pointing guns towards his face, the fool had pissed himself, figuratively, frozen up & interrogated by the troops, all his responses had a certain fear factor in them, ultimately leading up to him agreeing with doing more of these "quests" for what was now identified to him as the Brotherhood...

A few years had gone & passed, and to him, it was a life sentence as a "war" veteran Brotherhood scribe after a bit of prospecting service & learning all about the basics of science, helping around too. He was assigned to a detachment that somehow ended up at the wrong place, finally becoming a remnant of the Brotherhood after, by speculation, were dead. Elmer wasn't really into politics, not anymore - his hand was forever forced... Just as long as he got a job involving technology, he was happy to help and put his research to use, it was self-interested, but it got the job done. Now, he's lost somewhere deep inside Philadelphia with two other fraternal colleagues, waiting on a new purpose...

All Accepted.

@pill @Dazor @Landon @MyolesMorales

Check DMs and answer (if you haven't, or if you did it wrong, re-answer) prompts for finalizing.

Spoiler: The end of your world.

---

​

Vision breaking apart into a crystalline pattern as the gas began to envelop her, the ice cold sensation of their own ribs slowly piercing whatever remained of her chest. The final thing she saw were her few remaining fingers barely hanging on by strained tendons before her scalp melted past her eyes. Reaching out, she tried to feel a path across those steel halls numb to the touch, another voice calling out. Shambling over to the source, trying to embrace it only to fall through, enveloped by a warmth that seeped in, drowning her from the inside.

Light bore the membrane as a figure rose, dripping with the afterbirth of their transformation. They stalked the halls for some time, gathering their bearings as those blackened eyes fastened about the ceiling followed every step. Grime and pus now slathered the walls and floor, coagulating in the crevices that began to show its ruin. There were survivors, though death would have been a better fate for them. Some would crawl away whimpering, bloated tongues perpetually choking on their last words, while others lashed out in a frenzy; none daring to make contact. It was only when one abomination still stuck in its own remains was pulled free by the figure that the others reared their heads out in a childlike awe.

View attachment 35441

Directed by those dithering signs, now with a small horde following after, the figure stumbled upon a wall-like indent that was locked shut, one of the same eyes from before glaring down from above. Something hidden. Something protected. They traced a finger through the labyrinthine complex, trying to find a faulty panel to rip out, any weakness in the architecture. It all felt so familiar.

Spoiler: . . .

A room full of hairless apes, gnawing on their cigarettes while working over a blue sheet sprawling with lines and measurements, a newfound scripture dictating the workings of mans sepulchre.

A clang echoed and shook, the figure rushing over to investigate it. Some serpentine hatchling had managed to pry off a grille, barely squeezing through the hole it left and disappearing into the dark yawning. Several more hits would occasionally travel through, then a silence that stretched on for minutes; before a distant churning could be heard followed by screams that were quickly choked out. Retracing their steps, untouched inhabitants were seen crawling away from the now open indent, donned in white cloaks as they began to sink into their own pooling flesh. There was no saving them, the figure shambling by and into the pristine room now filled with that stagnant gas. A corpse lay by a downed chair, neck torn open with the serpentine abomination gnawing on some apparatus clamped to the deceased's arm. The figure brushed the hatchling aside, reaching down and commandeering the device, donning it themselves. A practiced motion.

Spoiler: . . .

Throwing on a white jacket and an ebony pillbox hat, one last kiss is had before she straps a plastic lump to her wrist and steps out into their lawn, moving over to a Corvega Blitz that glistened with a scarlet paintjob.

View attachment 35522



Now back outside of the room, once again stepping over the festering pools of flesh and striding through the corridors with purpose, eventually finding themselves at a towering circular gate with a cog shaped design to it. The figure moves over to a console, removing the adapter plug from their device and connecting it, pressing down on that withered button before shrieking alarms rang out. The other abominations cowered in fear while the figure stood against the grinding gate, opening up to an ethereal light that blinded them all, a voice from the crowd speaking up, chanting with a zealous fervor.

Gaizka! Gaizka! Gaizka!​

View attachment 35525​

GAIZKA, OF THE LOST​

---

Spoiler: boring ahh OOC stuff

DISCORD: g_r_u_g
TIMEZONE: CET
APPLYING FOR: Ovelord

Accepted under slight demotion.

Check DMs.

 

[MAXYOURFRIEND]

Jamison?

It was a morning like any other, there weren't many birds but the TVs were singing their regular tunes. There were blue skies with fat fluffy clouds scattering the canvas. That damn cliche too, the woman of my dreams waking me up with a smile to ask what we were going to do today. It all feels surreal now, a warm room in the redwoods despite the fact it was in the Autumn, a bed that was clean and actually felt comfortable, and no danger beyond the odds of an atomic bombing.

I should have stayed, but instead, I told her that damn stupid idea I had. Go door to door, sell some bonds, and make enough cash to get us to Vegas. I was certain I'd come up with a method to cheat the game and make us enough cash to live it up in a Vault if the bombs came, or in a nice house further inland otherwise. I remember I made it to Sacramento and just got out of my old Chrysler when I felt the heat, then I remember running for cover, and then...

I try not to think about it too much, doing that drives a man mad. Your flesh seems to boil, yet only some of it falls off. You feel like you're gonna die, and afterward, you wish you had. Come to think of it, that time was just a blink of an eye compared to how long its been. Still, you can't help but wish that'd been it. Better to have been burned into ash than to live on in the broken remains of a world that was already long lost.

Most of the other survivors I met looked like me, anyone normal died out from radiation or exposure or any number of other things in a matter of weeks. Not too long after that we figured that keeping ourselves exposed to radiation and letting our minds stray was why so many of us started to act like animals, so we all made a pact to go our separate ways to look for survivors.

I never bothered going home, I visited a few decades later when I realized I was gonna be stuck here longer. I left my cash there, maybe she could use it wherever she went.

​

(Art by Saihousi)

Every Ghoul needs something to keep their minds occupied and you need to switch it up every once and a while so that you don't go feral. At least, that's how most of the folk I talked to think it works. For me? I may as well keep doing what I was good at, sales and whatnot. First, it was the Water Merchants, then a "short" stint with Crimson, then that business around Vegas happened and I decided that it might be better to get a change of scenery. I brought centuries of sales experience to people with a similar mindset and they decided to send me out East.​

Seeing the old ruins of cities that once built more in a day then the NCR could hope to in a month leaves you with an odd sense of nostalgia, I've found. Out East here I'll do my job as I've always done and I'll make enough caps to keep this business going for decades to come since, well, it's a good deal being able to travel the country. If anyone tries to stop the company, I'll take them down. After all, it's damn hard to take down someone who's been surviving these wastes for a couple of centuries.​

---

Spoiler: Boring OOC Stuff

Discord: maxyourfriend
Timezone: CDT (GMT-5)
Applying For: Caravan Master

​

 

[Doom Demon]

Spoiler: Theme

MEATHEAD.

OVERLORD.

Once some unimportant Dweller that got hit with a healthy dose of FEV, now he's the BIG BOSS of the Philly area.

With his big fucken' hammer, and his above room temp intelligence, he started calling the shots for the muties in this area. He keeps an eye on his gang of misfits and violent idiots, making sure they don't kill or eat the wrong person.

He's planning something alot bigger than skirmishing the local village.​

 

[Shimac's Stew]

Spoiler: 'Till the End of Time'

​

---

'I long for the old days...' - Old Tony B, Owner of the 'Drippin' Stones' Bar


Time waits for no one, that's the saying goes. During the early days of 'Easy Street' when it was barely getting off the ground, a wandering caravan stopped by to trade with it's locals - Hoping to score big and earn profits. From this wandering caravan emerged a small family of three that set up shop in Easy Street, building a bar to sell food and drinks - And the rest is history.



The family had no last name to call themselves with - The Patron and Matron of said Family never gave it any thought as any day could be their last, especially when part of a travelling caravan. Death is always lurking around the Wasteland; Bandits, Radscorpions, Radiation, Ghouls, any many more. However, their skills in brewing their own alcohol and even sampling it frequently to the point of being intoxicated by their own drink while serving customers has earned the Patron and Matron the nickname 'The Bubbly Couple'



Hence, the 'Bubbly Family' was born.



The 'Drippin' Stones' Bar has been in Easy Street for decades, reaching up to three generations of a family business that remained standing against the test of time - with Thomas Bubble, or Tony B for short, being the current yet last generation of the family.



During the sudden appearance of the Super Mutants in Philly, Easy Street has taken a grave loss from the constant skirmishes and battles with these creatures. Sadly, Thomas Bubble's Son and daughter-in-law, who were previously the new owners of this family-tradition business, was caught in one of those battles and perished horribly.



Because of old age, the death of his wife a few years prior, and having only one child to inherit the business - Thomas Bubble had to take ownership of the Bar once again. Knowing that his son and daughter-in-law was killed by the Super Mutants, he has developed an hatred for the species - To the point of setting up Super Mutant Bounties in his own bar for any dare-devil who wishes to try their hand.



However, with 'Easy Street' being on it's last legs - The possibility of them being wiped out by the Super Mutants was likely. But Old Tony B would stand his ground and protect his family's legacy to his dying breath.

​

---

Spoiler: OOC Stuff

Name: Shimac's Stew
Discord: Shimac's Stew
Timezone: GMT+8
Applying for: Vendor + Selling Food / Drink / Chems

​

 

[DatOnePerson]

FRANKIE RUSSO

Mayor of Easy Street City
Mayor of New Philadelphia


A resident of New Philadelphia, Frankie Russo became a popular member of the community with his charisma and just kind nature, it led towards him running for Mayor at the urge of some friends of his. Surprisingly, he made it and became the Mayor of New Philadelphia.

It was a great time period and excellent for Frankie Russo, his town was going great, but that was until the Super Mutants attacked his city. The Super Mutants were always of a concern and a threat to the city, but it wasn't till they came and took a majority of the city till the threat was realized. Frankie Russo had about ten men to fight back, it wasn't enough to stop the mutant hordes, and the causalities taken in any engagement with the super mutants were costly and heavy.

With no ability to fight back, New Philadelphia turned into Easy Street and Russo moved his people into the hotel in an effort to defend them and shield them from the dangers lurking outside, yet he is fucking terrified of what is to come.

​

 

[dusty]

Lou the Mutilator
​

Lou the Mutilator was once an ordinary human, but that changed when a supermutant overlord captured him. They dragged him into a lab and injected him with FEV. Unlike some mutants who retained parts of their humanity, Lou lost all of his former self.

At first, Lou trudged the ruins of Philadelphia, using a steel rod rebar with a slab of concrete on the end as a weapon, often crushing foes with a single swing. Having lost who he was previously, Lou had little choice but to continue with his new band of friends.

He gained a primal desire which burned within him, a desire to inflict pain and terror. He found joy in the destruction he caused, villages became something of a playground as he led raids with a ferocity that frightened all that heard his roar. At the end of each raid, he would perform something of a signature move against the survivors. Possibly one of the most horrifying things the wasteland has ever witnessed. Lou would force a live grenade inside a victim and watch as they explode from the inside.

Screams of his victims only fueled his desire to consume their flesh, a silent encouragement to carry on to dish out destruction and suffering. Now, Lou resides in the ruins of Philadelphia his name continues to instill fear in the locals, synonymous with terror. A tiny part of him remained, and he silently wished he could be whole once more. But the FEV's grip on him was too strong, and Lou was lost forever.​

 

[Toronto]

SCRIBE
ELIZABETH IRONS



​

---

​

The product of generations of service dating back to Lost Hills. Irons lived a sheltered life, guarded from the horrors of the wastes by the high walls of the Citadel. She, like many others before her, began to bore of dullness and mediocrity of safety. Irons desired MORE. She wanted to be a HERO like her ancestors, men and women who had fought valiantly in service to their sacred order. When confronted with the chance to serve in the field, she jumped at the opportunity.

Spoiler

It would seem she's made a grave mistake.

AD VICTORIAM!​

---

​

 

[Craw]

===========================

===========================​

'LENNIE'​

A Lone Drifter​

===========================
​

"DEATH! MUTILATION! WAR! These were the words that Lennie used to live by back in the Capital Wasteland, a land which his old tribe used to pillage and roam, being a plight on the locals of Rivet City for years, that was until they garnered the attention of the Brotherhood of Steel shortly after their takeover of The Jefferson Memorial Museum. The weeks that followed saw the Brotherhood clearing out most of the surrounding mutant groups buried in Washington, Lennie's tribe being one of those unlucky few"

"And yet, from the wreckage of debris and blood, Lennie crawled out, hurdling his way out of the ancient remains of Washington. By the time Lennie had tumbled out into the wastes, he was exhausted, delirious and near the end, shadows started to take him until he saw a figure on the horizon...a mutant like him, one with the name "Uncle Leo"

Due to his mutations, Lennie recovered swiftly in the weeks that followed the attack. He accompanied Uncle Leo for some time after that, listening to the old Mutants tales of Peace and how each person be it Bleeder or mutant, has a purpose in these wastelands..."

"In the current day, Lennie is no longer the raging mutant he once was. He trades his rage and anger for Work and Haiku's. His travels have carried him from Washington to Utah taking odd jobs here and there to keep himself going. More recently however, Lennie finds himself employed as a bodyguard for The Rotting Roads Carravan Company, travelling all the way to Philly where he continues to search for the one thing he is missing most...his true purpose in the world"
​

===========================​