Roleplay

@Eaglerider


Trading caravan trails, in the year 2287, are as common as highways had been back before the great war. While most of them are small, and fairly localized, there are a few trails for the more ambitious and adventurous. They tend to be longer, and traverse through deadlier territory. but the payoff is always guaranteed to be better than the local routes. Provided the trader in question is smart and hardy enough to survive.

One such route crossed from the Capital Wastes, of former Washington state; DC, to New Vegas, where the NCR and Cesar's Legion battle for dominance over the land. This year as the caravan neared what would have been the California border a clan of highway men attacked scattering the traders, killing, and looting as they went. Many perished at the hands of the robbers though a few escaped down the road, or into a small nearby town.

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Zion languidly swirled the remainder of his irradiated gin, the liquid occasionally collecting the residue from the inside of the half cleaned glass. He gulped it down and eyed the other patrons, for a crappy dive bar 'The House of The Rising Sun' was pulling in quite the turnout. He wasn't sure but the Ex-raider was sure the name was ripped off from an old song title. Either way it was a gathering place for all types of people. Women, men, occasionally a ghoul if they were ballsy enough. He'd been renting a room here for the past week or so looking for work, a self proclaimed mercenary, if you had the caps all you need do is point out the target, he'd shoot 'em dead. His harrowing gaze returned to his now empty glass, jade green eyes dull with boredom.

He'd left the raiders about a year ago, give or take a month, but his reflexes and and aim were sharper than ever. The young man's back stiffened as his personal space was violated and a slender hand found its way into his thick auburn Mohawk. He spun around, knife in hand prepared to gut the offender like Yao Gui only to be met with a thin blonde woman, a soft smile written over her features despite the look of fear in her eyes. He sighed and lowered the knife mustering a half-hearted glare. "One of these days I'm not gonna stop in time Celeste." She giggled and produced a pair of aviator sunglasses from her dress pocket.

"Don't be so grumpy Zi, I brought you a gift!"

He eyed the glasses, arching one of his eyebrows "what's the catch?" The girl pouted in response.

"No catch, I just wanna be friends...but if you happen to come across any snack cakes I'd be happy to take 'em!"

Zion couldn't help but grin at her antics, raising his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug, causing the spikes along the shoulders of his leather jacket to brush against his cheeks. "I dunno Celeste..." He paused for a moment watching her wilt, "I suppose I could bring you a couple packets if I find any. The blonde cheered handing the glasses to him. Zion opened his mouth to respond when gun fire rung through the air. "Everybody down!" Called the ex-raider brandishing his shotgun as he stormed towards the door ready for a fire fight. He spotted the highway men and traders, gritting his teeth. "Don't these dipsticks understand that we all need traders to survive out here?" The question was rhetorical of course, he made a beeline for the closest trader hip-firing at the bandits. "Oi trader, there's shelter back that way. Go I'll cover you!"

Zion continued to shoot eventually opting for one of the dead men's combat rifle, he recognized the attacking group they packed tech that made the Brotherhood of Steel look bad. He gritted his teeth looking down at the dead traders, and back at the town no way they'd survive a full on assault. Dubiously he decided that it would be best if he and the, quite possibly only, survivor got out of there now. He grabbed the harness of the Brahmin the guy had with him and the survivor's arm, "I'm friendly don't shoot! We've gotta book it man, these guys 're ruthless and they'll plow down that settlement if we keep shootin'. There's over a dozen kids down there, let's go man!"

He tugged at the other man's arm insistently, he wasn't about to watch everyone he'd grown fond of get killed because some ballsy traveler refused to give up when he was licked. "You're buddies are dead 'cept maybe four er five who they let go so the trade keeps comin' back."

"Ex-raider." He clarified putting himself in between the trader and the highwaymen. He glanced back scanning the dusty hills, he knew of an old school house a few miles west of the town, no one went that far into feral territory except him. He tugged a Tesla grenade from his belt and tossed it into the fray that ought to buy them enough time to get far enough away to be too much of a hassle to chase. With one hand still firmly gripping the trader's arm and the other on the brahmin harness he ran, worn out leather boots kicking up sand and he pulled the two down into the valley. "There's an old school house down there, it's considered feral territory though. We get down there no one's gonna come looking for us, I can also assure you we get out of immediate firing rage and we ain't worth the trouble in their eyes." He slowed as the bandits on the hill dispersed, looking ticked off but not interested in giving chase. Zion sighed and ground the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Asshats..." he grumbled. "Sorry 'bout your caravan, they must have been on their way to demand taxes from town when they spotted you guys up on the hill." His accent was definitely east coast in origin, though it wasn't distinctive of any one area in particular. He held out his hand and let a weary smile curl the corners of his lips, "Name's Zion, and no not because of the old state park down here. Means heaven. My mother had a really sick sense of humor. So what's your's trader?"

"Radiation isn't too bad up there, not now anyway. The ghouls up there are all pretty old too. I figure they all wandered in there and took up residence when no one was around to drive them away. That and geckos like heading up there some times so good food source. They stay in the main building though, we can stay up in the old shed. I used to camp out there before I was sure the towns folk would be accepting to a man of my background, it's no Goodneighbor but no one seemed to mind all the leather and spikes." He continued on listening to Robert speak, he slung the combat rifle over his shoulder with his shotgun.

"Thanks." He glanced back over his shoulder, "you know a lot of those highwaymen are just about as stupid as they look. They'll probably only take caps, ammo, and guns. Maybe some food if you had any. Otherwise they'll probably leave a decent haul behind. Depending on what's left you'll probably be able to trade in town once the ruckus has died down." He slid the sunglasses Celeste had given him on and looked around. The lenses were in good condition so he was willing to bet she'd sneaked into the old boarded up hotel in town. The place was festering with radiation, and god only knows what else. "How long you been a trader Robert?" He didn't expect an answer but a little conversation would be nice so he figured he may as well try.

"Yeah little place up in the commonwealth. It's a safe haven for all of the undesirables up there, run by a ghoul called Hancock." He chuckled when the other man mentioned his hesitation to trust the ex-raider. "I don't blame you, some freak with a Mohawk came running up to me I'd be skeptical too. Your boss must be a real hardass then, raider attacks are so damn frequent out here it'd be more shocking if you hadn't gotten jumped." He shrugged deciding his opinion was better kept to himself.

"Your booze is gone that's for damn sure. Small weapons huh? Like pistols and all that jazz? You might actually have a chance at recovering some of that too. They like big showy stuff, laser rifles, miniguns, combat shotguns. They don't appreciate the versatility of smaller guns, I had the displeasure of getting recruited by them upon my arrival here. I said no and shot their leader in the knee, after all I'd just left one crew I wasn't plannin' on finding another to run with." He shook his head, "not technically no, I hang around looking for work though. Mercenary, or bodyguard for hire. Granted most of the time the most I get is farmhand stuff, herding bighorners, and fixing fences. Still gotta fund my way to New Vegas somehow right?"