R
Ringmaster
Guest
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They call it the Empire Wasteland. A place on the East Coast where the Brotherhood of Steel doesn't have a hold. It still holds a bastion of civilization in Chinatown. The former slum that burgeoned when the world fell into ruin. The Triad Gang had taken control of the city. It offered peace and protection for those who could pay. Those who couldn't pay the caps, or angered the Triads were forced out of the area.
The setting where our story begins....
Big cities, no matter the world had a certain quality to them. Any area with a large gathering of people, tended to create its own rules and regulations. For example, our here near to the Imperial Wastelands where New York City once stood, the rule was not of Steel, but rather the Triads. Thus you had less an officious looking score of guards and more an eclectic, if arguably deadlier mix keeping the peace. Massive Super Mutants lumbering with makeshift maces slung over their shoulders, guards armed with an array of guns, less disciplined perhaps but making up for it with a more intense savagery.
Power Armor was rare, as well as a point hotly contested over with by the Brotherhood of Steel. But whatever the Triads managed to find, they gave the armor their own flourish, spikes welded onto the pieces and paint jobs more fitting with their own colors. So while uncommon, it wasn't a matter unheard of to walk the smoking streets and see from the haze, like some monstrous golem of the stories one of these obstinately named "Peacekeepers" of the Triad. Everyone else just called them the Yama for short and tried to stay out of their way. Still, life wasn't entirely bad. At least no more harsher than the rest of the Wastelands out there.
And at least they were well protected and had shelter from the acid rains and enough to eat and drink. It was more than most would ever get in this benighted world and in a smokey bar known as the Watering Hole on the outskirts of the city, four people would be playing a game of Caravan in the corner. One drifter, three locals. A Triad middleman dealer, a sewer worker and a ghoul thug. All casually dealing out cards as they kept up a conversation about how things were going in the Imperial Territories.
The triad middleman peered at his cards, the chinese dragon tattoo standing out starkly against his face before he raised his bet and voiced out casually.
"So there was a skirmish between the Brotherhood and our side today. About five districts from here, was pretty bloody. Triad lured em down the street and set off a sinkhole trap. Got all of em in one blow."
The sewer worker, still somewhat smelly from his work snorted and spat in the corner before looking back. He was a cautious man and eventually would fold as he spoke.
"You were there? Shoot, you know how much work it gave us?! Won't have water in that area for about a week tops."
The ghoul peered at the drifter, a desperado hat such as those out in the more rural wastelands seemed to favor covering his features. though it was little hindrance to see if he was still in. Seeing it was so, he then added to the growing pile in the middle as he spoke.
"Smoothskins, y'all are the same. Don't matter what happens to the little guys, so long as you get your little patch of ground."
The triad man gave the ghoul a hurt expression to which the latter amended.
"Well not you exactly, but you know what I mean. Brotherhood won't rest till every bit of the Wastelands fall under their control. I ain't a fan of martial law, but still..."
The triad man nodded as he peered at his cards and said casually.
"Well, don't worry so much about em. Only place they can go is around the outer rim areas. They're too weak, to go charging up in the middle centric rings. Anyway, soon enough they'll cease to be a problem too. I ain't at liberty to say...But I can tell you with confidence, that we got something which is gonna change the face of the Wasteland powers-that-be for good!"
He placed his hand with a flourish...And blinked as the silent drifter placed down his hand of a 27 hand value to his own 24 and the ghouls 22.
The hat brim lifted slightly and while he had been drinking, the triad man could have sworn in the shadows of the place that the drifter had red eyes.
Lucifer stared at the people he played with before finally speaking.
"Now that sounds very interesting."
-------------------------------------------
About five miles from this location, in a street captured for their usage, the Brotherhood of Steel rooted in and awaited orders. An extended battle using their greater resources would crumble much of what they sought from this place, as well as take many innocent lives. So they put their faith in one who had never failed them before.
Whatever he might be doing now this night, at the least it would not be done alone.
@The Silver Paladin
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