After a few days of traveling, the 5,000 members of the DCDF kept up their pace and traveled in the underground metro system, eventually arriving nearby a city otherwise know as the Pitt. Taylor had been here before, keeping Lord Asher in power from Wernher and his Slave revolt. Despite her serving alongside those who she commended 'Evil', Taylor found the city unpleasant. She struck a deal with Asher over ten years ago, that Taylor would become the ruler of the Pitt once the cure was found and once Asher has passed away. She would rather let the baby that was now a ten year old girl help the population under the research of a highly trained scientist rather then Wernher who knew nothing at all. Asher let her and the five thousand individuals past once Taylor explained her situation. She was surprised to see the city itself in a much better condition then her first visit, and all of the raider generals that inhabited the city were now long past dead or turned into Trogs. The soliders now were no longer raiders, now a mixed population of workers alongside those who were deemed 'good'. Overall, they were accepted entry. Despite the health hazard of the strangely coloured sky and the nearby river making those mutate, society in the city was surprisingly controlled, even relaxed. Obviously, they had not been attacked by the Terra Glorians as of yet. But once they do, death would soon follow.
(Yea, I agree personally that Asher is the better choice for the Pitt as well, since he knows what he's doing, and clearly has some pretty big misgivings about repressing people like he did, along with his reliance on raiders. Plus, Wernher was kinda a [redacted]) Atarii Novenus, the new ciintarrius of what was left of Jolan's ciintara, sat atop Banoara, the only tank they had to survive the DC Siege, and to his right was Fliiva, their surviving ATP, and sighed as he looked around the gathered crowd, who seemed very interested in their arrival as Taylor talked with Asher somewhere, something about "a cure" that they needed to receive in order to survive in the Pitt. He looked around and frowned, and got off his tank and went inside it, sliding open a compartment where several large glass jars sat , filled with a grey-ish gas, along with some that was behind lock and key of a bluish tint. Atarii shuddered at the mere sight of the XVI gas in his tank before taking out a couple of the greyish containers. He then grabbed a peice of equipment that was similar to a flamethrower, only instead, it would shoot out the gas he has chosen. Quickly hopping onto the tank after getting it prepared out of sight, he pulled the trigger, and though the crowd at first screamed and attempted to run at first, they were discouraged as the strange scent of pineapples and other tropical fruit drifted through the air, and they realized where Atarii was spraying, it formed a safe area, one that would expand as the gas spread out. "Siriima gas. It's a bloody miracle." he muttered to himself (Atarii's from the Giidora province of Glory, which for some reason has a slightly british accent) as the crowd began to breath in deeply the sweet smell of the gas, which was much more pleasant than the harsh, industrial smell of the higher strength Siriima gas the Terrean Gloriians were using. More than once, he remembered smelling it and having to get the Wastelanders VERY quickly to safety, least their very DNA get torn to pieces.
Meanwhile, Taylor and Damien both headed to Haven to speak to Asher. Upon arriving, they found the former Brotherhood Paladin sitting on his leather chair at his desk, in his armour without his helmet. It appeared that time had finally managed to catch up on him, the now elderly Ishmael Asher looked towards Taylor, his face lit up in delight. “Ah Taylor! Glad to see you have made it out of there in one piece, my men have already told me about the threat that is being taken upon America. Before you even ask, the refugees are allowed to stay in the Pitt, including the military personal.” He said to the women, noticing a ginger haired stranger in the back. “And I see you have brought a friend. Is he going to cause any trouble?” “Not at all Lord Asher. He’ll be fine, how is the cure coming along?” Taylor responded. Asher paused for a moment then responded. “I have good news and bad news. The cure is almost completed and will be able for use, and therefore the Pitt will nolonger be a capital of slavery and torture, so all the workers will be set free. However....” Asher stopped, taking a drink from a bottle of whiskey. “I’ve got reports about an insurrectionist force wanting to destroy the cure for god knows what reason. They wish for the Pitt to remain how it is, as the hellhole you arrived in ten years ago. I believe this is a power play, but it could be much worse. I’ve sent twenty men to deal with this problem, all of them returned dead.” Asher refilled his cup, pouring another cup for the male in the back. “Simply put, kill their leader and the rest should fall in line. Understood?” Taylor nodded while Damien powered down the entire glass of whiskey in seconds. “Understood.” “I knew I can always count on you Taylor. They are holding out in the east of the city, you’ll know when you find them. Oh, and I’m giving the refuges some supplies to hold out for a while, it’s the least i could do.” Asher said. The two wastelander’s nodded and left the building.
Atarii and his men cleaned up all of Asher controlled Pitt using the Siriima gas, much to the delight and joy of those around them, and instantly began carving out a small addition to Asher's lands to house the refugees in, easily clearing out the Troggs, Wildmen, and raiders they came across, before they quickly set up a defensive perimeter and moved the 2,000 strong DCDF and the 5,000 refugees into the small, kilometer square area they carved out. Almost instantly, Atarii had the troops getting down to business, setting up training fields, sharing knowledge of fighting the Gloriians to the Pitt natives, and preparing the defenses of the place to be better for holding out against the Gloriians to prevent another situation similar to the Siege of DC. It might take months before they were ready to go on offensives, and possibly years with their current force to be in condition to take back the Capital Wasteland, and that's if the Gloriians there don't grow any more reinforced...
Taylor and Damien soon left Asher controlled Pitt, crossing the Monongahela where they soon found the insurrectionist force that Asher had reported to them. The force was very poorly armed and protected. The majority of the forces they found carried the Infiltrator or Auto axes rifles and wore metal armour, with an occasional, senior looking solider carrying much better weaponry such as a combat shotgun, and one enormous soldier who appeared to be over eight feet tall, a flamer. Despite their weaponry and protection, they got slaughtered by the two much better trained wastelanders. Damien, using his GEAR took down almost every single member with ease while Taylor provided support with her Plasma Rifle. Damien, flanking the flamer wielding member, went behind him and shot his gas tank, exploding as any member nearby him was set aflame. Once the smoke cleared, one of Asher’s men ran over to them and gave the two a walkie talkie to respond to Asher with confirming the mission’s success. Asher, pleased about the news, ordered the two of them to return to the Pitt.
(I'll make a jump to the West Coast) Five whole Terrean Gloriian granarmiidas silently encircled the city of Arroyo, one of the last pockets of concentration of the devestated NCR military, which had been cut to nearly a third of its original size in the past three months, while the Terra Gloriians on the West Coast still numbered about 850,000, with 200,000 east of the Rocky Mountains who had already all but taken over the entire area with the exception of the Pitt, which would fall soon enough. Victory against all but maybe Celon was certain in their eyes, but they were still determined not to let up in their fighting in any way. Then, around midnight, nearly 2 thousand pieces of artillery from howitzers to mortars to rockets suddenly roared to life, beginning the greatest siege bombardment Earth has seen since the Great War. At the same time, artillery that had not been used yet began firing upon the Celonian front line, surprising them as they never realized that the Terra Gloriians had artillery besides tanks and ATPs. At the same time, the Sabriis that had stayed on Earth began attacking en masse, announcing the largest military operation the Terra Gloriians had launched to date, one that would attempt to bombard their enemies into at least a much weakened state before swarming them, for once bringing full Gloriian military strategy onto Earth. All the while, the East Coast remained silent as humans were simply rounded up and murdered, simply for failing the loyalty and mutation level test, or just being in the wrong place, at the wrong time. But no military action occurred outside the consolidations within the Pitt....
(Hm...Why not do Damien and Taylr reporting back to Asher before checking up on Atarii and also doing a bit about the Chosen One. and I just realized he would be pretty old by now...)
(The chosen one would be 66. Living old in the wastes would be an uncommon sight, but it depends where the individual lives and how. In his prime (During the events of Fallout 2), the Chosen One would have been as good, if not better then Damien.) The Pitt, East Coast. Present Day Taylor and Damien soon made it back to Asher, and were rewarded with a thousand caps each and some ammo for their weaponry, with the exception of Damien's GEAR due to Asher not currently having the technology to create the ammo necessary for it. After Asher thanked them, the two of them headed back to the DCDF, more specifically Atarii and the remainder of his squad for any further assistance. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- New Arroyo, New California Republic,West Coast. Three days before. A figure dressed in a black suit walked outside of a special bunker constructed for his safety surrounded by a dozen Veteran Rangers keeping their distance nearby. He walked up the line slowly, studying the list of young faces that stood in a line in uniform. The man, who's once black hair had turned grey from age long ago shook the hands of the incredibly young republic soldiers, the youngest possibly being no older then sixteen. The youngest one reminded him of his son, who was made a Ranger at fifteen due to the sheer abilities he had during combat, and also defying even the NCR's jurisdiction in enlistment ages. All he knew about his son was that he was on the East Coast. As he walked up the line slowly, the president of the most powerful nation on the entire east coast continued to shake hands with the soldiers. There was no talking, just a deafening silence. President Winters, made president after Kimball's death in 2282, looked at the young faces of those who still fought for the NCR through thick and thin. What made it worse that he knew deep down, they were all going to die. Once they received their hands shook, and all of them receiving medals, he headed back down into his bunker with the Rangers. He knew that judgement day would soon wipe out the NCR in their very last major stronghold of Arroyo. If the NCR died, his great grandfathers legacy would been forgotten in helping set up the nation, and ensuring it's survival. Despite overwhelming odds, the now elderly Adrian Winters refused to surrender until death came along him.
(Heh...Sounds like Hitler and his final days...) - - Auto Merge - - Atarii walked around the hurriedly put together training fields as he silently observed the intense training that had already began, making corrections, giving orders, and the like as he grew ever more determined to whip up the first full, and fully trained, legion on the East Coast, which would give the Gloriians something to take seriously.
Damien, being the most skilled in combat between the two Wastelanders, assisted with the training of the DCDF. He did not teach basic millitary training, nor Ranger level training. Instead, he was teaching the exact level of training he was taught by his father. This "Winter Training", was the most brutal yet successful form of special forces training on the entire West coast, now being taught to 20+ year plus veterans of the NCR rangers and all future members of the Winters family. Those who wished to take this form of Training had no idea what they signed up for. Damien's candidates, numbering between 10-14 train for more than 20 hours per day with little sleep or food. There was little shame in failing this course, the training is so extreme that even qualifying for it elevates an officer to a position of respect. Out of the 100 that signed up, 92 washed out within the first week leaving Damien with eight members who continued, those being former surviving Brotherhood paladins and Taylor.Those who did wash out went back to being taught by the Celon Glorians.
Meanwhile on the Northwest Coast John looked at himself carefully in the mirror, running a hand through his dark, pepper grey hair as he holstered his weapons around his body. He had heard of the Gloriians and the civil war going on between Celon and Glory, but he had long been considered dead by those he knew or was known by. He had no reason to return, after all, he was living a good, stable life in a settlement he helped found, one that was now beginning to cautiously expand beyond, much as the NCR had when it began, and the Gloriians had thankfully left them alone. The wars were hundreds of miles away, seemingly all but an event that made no difference to them. But then...Rumors had arrived of a nearby town that was wiped up by a group of "some 30 odd men" in full combat gear, and John knew deep down what had happened. A ciinana had arrived as a scouting party, testing the waters, determining if the area was suitable for taking while they fight NCR, Celon, and that one resistance force in the Northeast. John knew what he had to do. Turning away from the mirror, ignoring his old age by wasteland standards(about mid-50's), and went out to the assembled militia of the town of about 5,000, almost all of whom he had trained personally, he gazed over the few hundred or so militia men and decided to be quick and to the point, "Well, the day has come. The Gloriians fighting our southern brethern in the NCR and Celon have made their first move towards us, our only hope is to show them that attacking us will not be a venture worth further spreading out their troops. How do we do that? Well, there is a group of 30-90 soldiers from them. We send a clear signal. We kill them. Give them a clear, precise defeat. I know most of you have never fought actual soldiers, mainly raiders and the like, and it will be a new experience to not be the top dog, but if we defeat these people, that means our respect in the region will increase dramatically, and everyone will owe us a debt of their lives. And once we kill them, we can take their equipment, and further supply ourselves! And don't fight complacently or in fear, for if they defeat us, nothing will stop the flood of troops northward, and we will all be killed. Got it? Good. Now let's mooove out!"
The ammo press was working on overdrive, doubling ammo production and manufacturing high quality weapons through the use of many army schematics and the vast amount of workers that were working around the clock on creating weaponry that could even harm a Terran Glorian. Surprisingly, the workers had managed to build five artillery guns after discovering schematics buried in an old abandoned section of the pit that was formerly serving as a Trog nest and spare parts from old cars. While the range of the artillery guns were not as high, according to the builders, to what they faced in DC, the damage output was astonishing. Training was going along nicely and relations were highly peaceful between the different classes. Asher himself felt a warm sense of pride that everything was working out far beyond his expectations.
Atarii was looking over the DCDF and the new recruits from the Pitt, getting ready to dismiss them from another day of training when suddenly he felt the ground start rumbling under his feet and a distinctive rose smell filling his nose, he turned just in time to see an explosion dissipate over around where the steel mill was, his eyes grew wide, quickly turning around to the troops who were frozen with fear, and proceeded to yell in Gloriian at the Celonian commanders of the army, "Riiosor siitanii! Mevat iivona enat sotatii!"(Rose attack! Move everyone into cover!") and they quickly began barking orders as two more missiles slammed into what Atarii guessed was Uptown. Ironically, the safest thing to do in a Rose Missle attack was not to hide in buildings, it was to keep moving out in the open, so that's what they tried to do as waves of scores of Roses zoomed into the city, slamming into the ground or exploding in the air to rain shrapnel down on those below. Deep down, Atarii knew what this meant, it meant they(the Gloriians) had full military capacity, and soon, the Sabriis would be making their runs.... Northwest America John and his 300 militiamen closed in on the Gloriian encampment after a few hours of searching (wasnt that hard as they stayed in the town they had massacred), sneaking up to the edge, hiding from the Gloriian patrols. They infiltrated the town, setting ambushes all around, silently killing all those in their way. John looked through a window with a grenade launcher in hand as he studied the main Gloriian encampment, which had about 60 soldiers currently milling about inside. He took a deep breathe and pulled out his flare gun, and fired it straight into the sky. He and the 20 men with him suddenly opened up on the Gloriians, along with all the other men hidden around the town. The ambush completely caught the Gloriians by surprise, the sudden hail of grenades and gunfire overwhelming them. Before John knew it, it was over, and they were dragging 20 new POWs home. Little did they know they had just taken the first Gloriian POWs of the entire war across America, and had handed the Gloriians their first true defeat, however small it was, all at no cost to his men.
Damien looked towards the direction of the sudden explosions, catching it just in time to see a small building collapse. His training soon kicked as he went to take cover while not remaining in buildings. Once the missiles stopped, he looked at some of Asher's soldiers and any DCDF nearby him. "Anti Aircraft Guns, NOW!" He ordered as the DCDF then rushed towards their positions. For some reason after grabbing weapons, he grabbed a flag pole with the pre-war flag of America which he took from DC to remind him of what he fought for. He understood the power of symbols since a stranger spoke to him in what used to be the divide, his voice cutting through his very soul. Even with Damien's charismatic nature, nothing he could say, do or perform could not even reach close to what the mask wearing man had told him. Damien paused for a second as he headed out towards the battlefield. He had a feeling that, despite the positives of the situation, he might not make it out alive....
Atarii glared angrily at those running for the very limited selection of AA guns, "YOU IDIOTS, YOU FOOLS!" he yelled at them, accompanied by his men tearing people away from them, "They WANT you to do that! That way they can see where our positions are and bombard the hell out of it! Besides, any planes flying in will be going too high, too fast for ANY of you to even HOPE of hitting one!"Atarii looked around at the ruined area and the survivors of the Rose bombardment, "Find shelter, find a way to hide from the sky, under no circumstances should you show any light. It is better to force them to bombard the whole area than concentrate on us. Now MOVE!" Deep down, Atarii knew this was just the first of many cycles, there would be a Rose bombardment, then the planes will fly in, then Roses would hit again, then bunker buster missiles, then more Roses, then more planes. It could last from a few days, to a few weeks, maybe more. And Atarii knew most of the Pitt people they were training and the DCDF would snap easily under that kind of bombardment, exactly what the Gloriians want.... *********** John looked straight-faced at the Gloriian before him, who was doing the same to him, almost in a contest of wits and determination to see who would stay unblinking the longest, but John decided to cut it short, "Tell me, why are the you Gloriians here? And if you're wondering why you were chosen, it's because we were told you were the only one of your ciintura's survivors to know this language." The Gloriian bit his lips and turned his head to the side, in an apparent refusal to talk, to which John sighed, "Look, you aren't a Magniitium. The patch on your shoulder says you're a Riigula." John leaned forward and cocked his head slightly, "I know what that means. It means you were serving your required 4 years of active or reserve duty after you got out of school, and then suddenly you were told you were being sent off to a planet far, far away to murder innocent people that have not nor will ever threaten your homeworld. Your service has likely been extended to be whatever the length of this campaign is, if not indefinite as your people try to settle this world. Is that correct?" Gloriian shuddered slightly and sighed sadly, "Y-yes..." "And I'll take it there's nothing you'ld love more than going home to see your family?" "Yes..." John nodded, "I understand. I understand that your nation is trying to fight a war without the consent of neither its populace nor general armed forces. We had a nation just like that, called NCR. Sound familiar?" The Gloriian nodded slowly "Did your ciintura take part in any battles against the NCR?" "W-we fought at the place called Shady Sands...After Flagstaff..We were lucky to be as good condition as we were..." John reached out and grabbed the Gloriian's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze, "Don't worry. No more harm or fighting will come to what's left of your ciintura. But I do have one request...I need you to get to your radio op, and send around a simple petition message." then before the Gloriian could respond, John slipped a piece of paper in his hand and walked out of the room - - Auto Merge - - (Hey Crim, small warning, pretty much for the rest of this week I'm only going to be able to respond at most once a night, if at all, so yea.... .-.) - - Auto Merge - - (And I think we should start introducing PTSD as a problem. Sure the Wasteland may be bad, but it would do nothing to prepare the inhibit ants for this type of warfare)
(Sure thing, and i like the PTSD idea is a good idea. I'm able to respond once a night on the weekends, if at all, as well.) Taylor, who was on the other side of the Pitt was busy evacuating those who survived the Rose attack into buildings. Those who did not survive or were on the brink of death were doomed, as rescuing the survivors now would reveal their location. She heard cries of pain, sorrow and eventually heard nothing. She was stuck between a small group of sixteen, those who were closest to her and a few of the DCDF that made it in her building. She confirmed twenty dead, possibly much more on Damien's side.
(Now that I think about it....It wouldn't surprise me if it was canon for Raiders to have some sort of really bad PTSD)
