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[RP] Fallout: Severed Vegas | Day

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Tickles:
Fallout Severed Vegas
War. War never changes.

Twenty years after The Legion was defeated at Hoover Damn by Courier 6, and the NCR was told to leave the Mojave, the two factions have returned to reclaim what they believe is rightfully theirs. Scattered armies began to take hold of territories across the Mojave.

These were just the beginning of the new struggles that faced the untamed west, as the rise of the Enclave meant increasing their influence. Talon Company piggy backed off of them, and seen a vast land with new opportunities for making money. A faction scuffle ensued, territories were won, and enough blood was spilled to paint the desert red. All sides came to an agreement to leave territories as is, and the Mojave Treaty was formed. But tensions would rise once the single most valuable resource, energy, would be wanted by every faction in The Mojave, and a faction war is on the horizon once again.

But war never changes.

Plot

Take the role of a citizen of one of the many factions, fight for survival, and win glory for your people. Or take on the role of a Wastelander, living by your own rules, and taking no masters. You do what you must in a near lawless wasteland. That is how things go in this world.

Role play Mechanics

-There is a day/night system. During the day, it will be really hot out. It never rains in the Mojave thanks to the nuclear bombs. During the night, temperatures will drop to freezing levels. It is advised you prepare for this drastic shift in weather wherever you are.

-Trade uses the value of what you have on hand. Caps are hard to keep track of in an RP, so you must find items to trade for more items. Merchant's can be found in every major town.

- You must eat and drink regularly, and get enough sleep. If you do not, your characters health will deteriorate, and their actions may become more sluggish and dangerous. Further refusal to meet these needs may result in death.

-Your S.P.E.C.I.A.L. combined with your skills will determine how events will turn out. The GM is the only one that can make these happen.

-Factions tend to hate each other, but are at a mutual agreement not to attack each other for fear of annihilation. If you kill anyone belonging to a faction, you are automatically hated by that faction until evidence can prove it was not a random occurrence.

Roleplay Rules

-All posts are required to be a full paragraph, or four complete sentences in length. Dialogue does not have to be a complete sentence, but it must make sense. Any post that does not meet this requirement will be requested to edit. Refusal to edit will result in either a mod making the edit, removal of the post, or being kicked from the RP.

-GM events will be given out to players with very little information. This is to leave room for creativity. If the GM says that you wonder upon a locked container near dead bodies, you have a choice to make, and you must meet the post requirement.

-There will be no post that says "I wait for my foes actions." This can drag on an event for far too long. You must make a valid action for your foe to respond. For instance, you get shot at, you take cover, reload your gun, and return fire within a couple posts. You do not take cover, then wait. The GM has all right to skew an encounter to force you to make a valid action.

-You must keep a "Backpack post" in the OOCC. This post will contain all items you find throughout the RP. You must keep this up to date. Copy the link to your post so you can edit it regularly.

JerryEdit: Approved

Tickles:
It was a hot day in the Mojave, no hotter than any day, but hot enough to make only those that prefer to be shut-ins stay that way. The barren landscape was quiet, save for the few geckos and bloatflies that seemed to enjoy ambushing travelers. At least there was some peace. The faction's haven't been in any conflict for almost six months, and the news travelling across the radio waves was more about local economics, and stories of intrigue. Of course, things are not always as they seem on the outside.

Sal

Sal was working in his small shop. He was busy trying to remove a good part from a bus that one of the squads brought in. Took them three days to get it to searchlight, and it was covered in bulletholes. This was the last usable part he could find, and it would prove useful for one of the generators if they happen to break down. Just as he was removing the last screw, his officer approached him.

"Salvador, stop what you're doing. I have a new assignment for you."

Sal let out a sigh, as he was very close to getting what he needed, but he obeyed without question, turning to his commanding officer with a prompt salute.

"Yes sir, what is my assignment, sir?"

"We need you on Vertibird detail again. Blasted recruits somehow broke number seven. That one is already on its last leg, but we can't afford to lose another. Get it running shape asap. Undersood?"

With that, the officer saluted, and left. Sal grabbed his tools, and his hammer, and made way to the hangers. He found the number seven, and things looked normal. He got right to work, examining the interior.

Cilus

Cilus woke up in his tent near Callville. He was told to stay there until further orders were given. Of course, he was up before the other members of his pitiful squad. Mostly new recruits, but they had the chance to rise the ranks. Not that Cilus didn't, he would just have to prove his worth. He looked around and seen no signs of danger, that is, until is little friend showed up.

"Cilus, why don't you go back to sleep. Take a load off. No one has came here in three days, there's nothing to worry about. Everything will be fine.

"Easy for you to say Gnome. You get to prance around carefree. I have important business to attend to."

"What, sit around all day? Eat your fill of beans and gecko steaks? Aren't you bored? Don't you want to play?"

"I don't want to play any of your stupid games. Now, begone!"

"Fine, fine. You're boring Cilus. Just know that."

The Gnome disappeared behind a rock. Cilus would discover where he went eventually, but he needed to wait for further orders. Something about today was giving him a new sense of importance.

The-Blades-slave:
Silene
Silene was repairing her Sniper Rifle. She had disassembled it and was busying trying to set the internal hammer back into place. She had broken it at the shooting range firing the gun too quickly, and it was proving difficult to fix. "Just a little bit more... Ha!" With a twist of her thumb the hammer snacked into place, and she pumped her fist in triumph then began to reassemble the gun. Right as she laid the gun down, fully put together, someone tapped er on the shoulder.

She jumped in surprise, whirling around to find herself face-to-face with the brick wall that was Sergeant Miggory. She jumped up and quickly saluted. "Sorry, sir! I did not see you come in, sir!"

The Sergeant waved off the apology, speaking slowly and deliberately when he responded. "At ease, Private Nicole. You've done nothing wrong, I just came to give you your new assignment." The sniper relaxed and dropped her hand to her side, thankful the Sergeant spoke so slowly. It was hard to read his lips with how tall he was. "You are to travel northeast a ways to Aerotech and take inventroy. Understood?"

Silene nodded.

"Good, Christmas!" She blinked once in confusion, then once in aggravation. He must have meant dismissed, she realized, then blushed in embarrassment and hurried off. She still needed to work on reading lips a bit.... (It would not be until she was at the gates of the camp she would realize she had forgotten her rifle in her haste.)

Warren
Warren rose with the sun. He busied himself sparking a fire and preparing the last of the rations for breakfast, a large meal like always to satisfy his mechanical companions gluttonous needs. He was reminded of said companion when the stocky dog brushed up against him, sniffing at the fire and barking eagerly.

"Enjoy it, it's the last of the food. We won't eat again until we reach Novac this evening." The wanderer scratched Modeus neck just behind where his steel jaw fused with flesh, muttering to himself, "Rations would last a lot longer if you didn't eat so much, but at least you aren't picky..." The dog waggled its stump in agreement.

When breakfast was done Warren divvied up the food. He dug out a small trench in the sand, deep enough to reach a bit of solid dirt, and poured nearly a gallon of water into the hole. It would sink into the dirt if left long enough, but Modeus would see to it that the water was gone long before that happened. Then he tossed the dog a large chunk of meat, keeping a chunk for himself along with his small container of water.

They ate in relative silence. When the meal was done Warren sent Modeus off to scout ahead and began cleaning up the camp. He piled the scraps of the meal into the hole he had dug out for water and filled it in, doused the smoldering remnants of the fire, and finally packed up what little supplies he carried. It was still early morning when he finished packing up and set off after his companion, the desert sun beating down on him.

lubbies:
Wolf sat silently under a small overhang in Goodsprings, her head pounding from the heat. She spotted a radroach scuttling from rock to rock, undesirable but it would have to do. She approached the radroach, her bear trap fist armed, once she was close enough, she slammed her fist down on its back and the bear trap clenched shattering the insect's outer shell and severing the meat inside.

Wolf-Damnit!

Wolf could only pick out a bite of the meat but the rest was ruined. It was at this time she concluded that venturing into the town was inevitable. She began to travel in the direction of the town but her vision blurred and she clumsily fell to the ground. Panic rose inside her and tears welled in her eyes, no, if she passed out here that would be the end. She slowly got up and found the strength to run but unfortunately she lost her footing and tripped, slamming her head on a large rock... Everything went black.

Humen:
John

Outside next to a camp fire in Callville John waits idly by. The cries of a beast can be heard approaching and a smile shows on John's as he crouches down. Before him is his faithful companion Bane with a dead mantis carcass in his mouth.

"Good boy."

John pats Bane on the head as a reward for his findings and after tearing off a leg for himself to eat tosses the rest of the of the bug's body into a dog bowl for Bane to eat. As John cooks his mantis leg over the fire Bane feast on his own meal.

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