The REALLY Wild Wasteland. (The Fallout RP!)

[Athol]

He moved with a softness of pace that his less intelligent brethren never bothered with, hoping to remain undetected for as long as possible, while constantly testing the air. Old blood and dust, sweat and decay?the usual smells of the wasteland. He could feel the presence of a couple of humans nearby, their minds acting like frustratingly indistinct beacons; but that was as good as it got. He surmised they were likely inside the ruins, given the lack of real cover outside; he just hoped he wasn?t about to get ambushed with something like a rocket launcher.

As the light breeze shifted, he tested the air once more.

Hmm?human female, young?seems distressed. I wo-

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the distinct scent of a male Deathclaw.

That?d do it. Well that?s that I guess.

A lone human rarely did well against the less ?civilized? members of his species, he just hoped the female died quickly. Distracted by those thoughts he missed the sensation that one of the human ?beacons? was getting stronger, like it was approaching, until a strange young human burst into view.

"THERE YOU ARE!"

Rath had seen other human adorn themselves with bits of metal, though this one lacked the ?Raider stink? most of the others carried; the tail, which he spotted as she approached, was new.

Maybe there is more mutation among them than I first thought.

Even more surprising than her appearance, or her apparent lack of fear of a nearly eight foot tall murder-lizard, was when she grabbed a claw and tried to get him to follow her.

"Let's get back to the school before the Megatonians see you, Malkos."

She had about as much a chance of dragging a mountain as she did shifting his bulk, so while she tugged at his finger, Rath just stood there feeling rather confused. Seeing as he hadn?t ?talked? to anyone is a while, it took a moment to concentrate on this new arrival before he ?spoke?. [

Excuse me.

] He said, his voice felt more that heard inside the girl?s head. [

I am not this ?Malkos? that you are looking for?though the fact that [i]I[/i] could be mistaken for them raises a question or two. My name is Rath, who might you be?

]

Spoiler: OOC

Just a bit of pre-emptive clarification (if anyone cares)
[

This is Rath ?speaking?

]

This is Rath thinking

 

[Rip Van Rabbit]

The Wild Wastelands | Present Day | Springvale Elementary School
"Recovery"
- Kristin 'Valkyrie' Blamco -
---​

The sting of a cold breeze and the ever-growing fall of darkness had awoken Kristin from her Valkyrian state.

" - and I will meet you in the afterlife. For now, I must return to my duties. Rest well."

Unclasping her hands, the prayers had stopped once she felt truly present. Glimpses of her actions proceeding Jonathan's death had come flooding back, drowning her in waves of regret. The faulty deflections of responsibility did little to quell the tide of sorrow. In her blind anguish, Kristin had lost control and almost hurt Constance. While her mind would only be eased with an explanation, she could still hear the desperate murmurs of a shell-shocked blood-stained young woman. Kristin was a Warrior first, a Princess second and Lady third. She was not a barbarian -- and amends should be made. It had become increasingly apparent that time was fleeting and apologies should be made as soon as possible. They could talk after they had settled down.

Kristin Blamco made every effort to avoid romantic entanglements, given that her political status had made dating to be a messy affair, one where she couldn't quite tell good intent from manipulation. The battlefield and cooking was easier to understand. Even with her aversion or rather, fear, of romance - this did not nullify any nurturing qualities she bore as a Lady and a person.

Standing up, there was a small amount of satisfaction once she realized that Jonathan was carried all the way to the side of Lucy Black's house. The stone-based solution that encased her sword had been broken off entirely, exposing the power claymore hiding the true nature of her weapon...without a BlamCo Lab and maintenance team, Kristin had lost the crushing ability she so fondly desired for armored opponents. The power claymore would need some work with a whetstone and some cleaning, but the double edge was still keen. At least her sundering ability was increased with a lighter weight to boot.

After gathering some aged-fauna from Lucy Black's home, a broken slab of rock served as a makeshift tombstone which bore an engraving of Jonathan's initials.

Creativity followed limitation, so it was on that note that Kristin started to make her way back to the entrance of the school. Speaking of which, what exactly had happened to cause so much property damage!? Her eyes followed a trail of debris leading away from the school right down to a collapsed wall on the other side of the school. Not only was it unsightly, but it was a security risk if any third-parties decided to join them. A mental note was made that Sylphy strength training would include the rebuilding and fortification of their base - fortunately, she had the manpower, or woman-power to be exact.

"THERE YOU ARE!"

A relieved exclamation pierced the quiet atmosphere. Kristin's head snapped to the direction of the sound and broke out into a small jog. That was Constance, right? It was tremendously close by. But why the panic in her voice?

Rounding the corner, the sight of the Deathclaw towering over Constance had drawn a reactionary response to grab her sword.

[... -- My name is Rath, who might you be?]

Sheepishly, Kristin checked herself for a head wound. Not only had she interrupted a conversation, but she had learned that Deathclaws could talk. It seemed that this Deathclaw was making a habit of seeing the worst of her now.

"Rath! So that's your name!" Kristin announced, surprisingly chirpy over the novelty of a talking Deathclaw. Sable would be so jealous. "It seems like you've put on some weight! That's good, goes to show you what the wonders of a properly cooked BlamCo cuisine could do for you. I say, you lot are too thin -- ..."

Kristin trailed off when she noticed Constance. It wasn't Constance that bothered her, it was the state of Constance. Puffy red eyes, tear trails, blood-soaked clothing, shaking hands and a distraught wide-eyed gaze. This young woman was on the verge of an emotional collapse.

"Mister Rath.", Kristin addressed the Deathclaw respectfully. If there's one thing Sable taught her over time, it was to respect the Wild Wasteland. "If you're still feeling peckish, I'm sure I can cook you something of greater quantity. I have one more classroom to feed and there's bound to be an excess of food..."

Kristin directed her gaze at Constance, taking a step forward and laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Kristin had questions, yes, questions that could change the very nature of their relationship. But the Leader of the Valkyries needed to put her teammates first.

"...remember that shower you promised me? We should get ourselves cleaned up.", It was the most polite way to say that we looked terrible. Kristin noted that she too was caked in blood. "Perhaps chat a little and maybe you can help me with the cooking, yeah? Simple and quick dish for the remaining Sylphy's, I promise."

Looking up at Rath again, "Give us some time? Feel free to plug the hole in the wall, I mean, that's technically a room now, I suppose."

Kristin was babbling, more than normal that is. Today had shaken her pretty badly, even with years of mental conditioning, she couldn't hide her own fears about the future. Still, she needed to stay strong -- too often had she found that people scattered in a crisis, rather than uniting. One could say that she was compensating heavily with the busywork, but she wanted to put tonight behind with all of her duties finished.

[hr]

The Really Wild Wastelands | The Distant Past | New Vegas
"Don't beg for attention. It's unbecoming."
- Sable 'Swan Maiden' Blamco -
---​

There was indeed a goal behind Sable's complete disregard for courtly manners, for those within the walls of BlamCo did not move without purpose. The cumbersome social rituals of high society worked towards the preservation, elevation, destruction and evaluation of one's reputation. The greater the attention one attracts to their social standing, the more limited one's actions become. In those limitations followed the pressure and expectations of external forces weighing upon those in power to succeed, or more bitterly, to fail.

One might be wondering why Sable went along with the etiquette of the times and the answer was laughably simple: Words were the weapons of the civilized. Gestures turned into attacks. Tone indicated the way one guided their verbal assault. Body language formed a universal signal for preparatory reactions, and to a keen eye, they showcased intent.

Social faux pas continued to be a theme on this day. Arguably, Victoria's betrayal of Sable's privacy was far greater than Sable's continued provocation. Yet, there was a goal to this minor skirmish. Sable teetered between the roles of an insufferable princess, the sudden evocation of her Swan Maiden stance and a return to her usual measured self. She was probing for reactions and to her more clear-headed caution, she discovered a few.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Blamco," Victoria said with a curt bow of thanks towards the hostess. Curiously, the artificial voice was more pronounced this time around, "As you undoubtedly learned from my esteemed cousin, Thomas, my name is Undertaker Victoria McGee of the Representative of Undertaker's Union and current Head Undertaker of the East Coast. Before we discuss the business that brought me to your manor, I would like to formally apologize for barging into your personal quarters unannounced and finding both you and my cousin in such a sordid state of dress. While there is no excuse for such rudeness on my part, I humbly ask if you could kindly chalk up this incident as one comrade looking over the welfare of another. I must confess, I did bear witness to the vigorous and hard fought battle between the two of you. It is, indeed, a rarity among our cultured society to see such a swing in the relationship between two former combatants in such a short time span," Victoria paused for a moment, seemingly finding some enjoyment by dancing around the subject matter. "I trust my cousin as vigorous and hard in your second encounter... It would be a shame to know that he couldn't rise to the occasion."

Sable was taken aback by Victoria's multi-layered verbal riposte. This was most certainly not someone to be taken lightly. Remaining composed, the Swan Maiden replied with a silent nod and a playfully dismissive wave of the hand at the mention of apologies -- Etiquette among Ladies, especially in tense engagements, demanded a degree of preservation for each other's reputation. To the uncultured eye, these Ladies appeared to be competing for the title of the most gracious. After all, losing one's temper to some underhanded jab is just...unsightly.

"As for my business, besides coming to collect my dear cousin Thomas... that is if you are done with him... I also have a contract request from the Undertaker's Union. As we will be opening our temple to the public, we would like to contract BlamCo with the provision of refreshments for the throngs of guests that are sure to visit. Our historians found that prior to the Great War, BlamCo had also been the primary provider of food to Walt's Great Temple and the Grandmaster thought it appropriate to resume such a relationship." The woman's tone turned warm, but stern, signalling a deadly sincerity.

"Favor fortunes me on this fine day.", Sable's pretensions subsided for true excitement. The transition was rather unsettling. Like someone had flipped the switch from 'Autopilot' to 'Let me gaze into your soul at whatever cost.'. "I believe you have saved Mister McGee quite a journey to relay a business proposal. Please, follow me and we can discuss this in private."

Before beckoning the Undertaker's to follow her, Rose was discovered among the ranks of BlamCo workers/security personnel. Pulling her aside, her retainer was ordered to steer anyone away from the Family's personal dining hall. A call for additional personnel was required to guard the entrances in full combat gear - this meant that Kristin and her company would be on their way. On top of the order, a tea & coffee with biscuits was requested for three.

"Pardon me, minor arrangements for a spontaneous meeting.", Sable beckoned and lead the way at the steady pace. Slow enough to extend their chat and give her retainers a head-start on arrangements. "Ms McGee, fret not about earlier. You were concerned for the safety of your family, an understandable motivation. That said, my provocation earlier was uncalled for and I admit to my emotions getting the better of me. I do hope this does not negatively impact our discussions."

Continuing deeper into the mansion, the decorum changed from welcoming artwork to family portraits, accolades accompanied by paintings, discontinued weaponry and trophies.

"To touch upon a previous observation of yours, namely the dramatic shift in a combatant's relationship. Well - ", Sable paused to find the correct phrasing, "In Valkyrian mythology, it was not uncommon for a Chooser of the Slain to take favor upon a male suitor of demonstrable prowess. You see, in the heat of battle, all pretenses can be stripped away. What separates a desperate struggle for one's life and the admiration for a skilled individual is a matter of respect that develops it's own brand of intimacy."

Opening the double-doors of the private dining chamber, her guests were welcomed to take a seat. Sable had to commend the staff of BlamCo, for their refreshments were ready. Nodding to her retainer on the opposite end of the room, Rose curtsied and exited the room.

"And Ms McGee, a gesture of good faith. I will overlook the parasol, the uneven shape of something folded underneath your sleeve and that peculiar, yet uniquely beautiful necklace of yours."

Waiting until everyone was seated first, Sable leaned forward with her hands on the table.

"BlamCo would be more than happy to meet your request, Ms McGee. In fact, I can grant that request and put the necessary arrangements for personnel within the hour.", Sable shifted her gaze between the two and dived right in. "But I wish to form an alliance between the Valkyries and the Undertakers."

No points for subtlety -- but then again, Sable was fond of the direct approach. Taking a seat, nonchalantly pouring her tea and taking a cautionary sip. Sable allowed her words to sink in. She had explained this to Thomas, but Victoria was the one she truly had to convince. So a show of faith was in order: The truth. "Allow me to explain what separates BlamCo from their very own clandestine group of Valkyries..."

Sable followed the steps that she had demonstrated with Thomas. An unrestricted insight into the 3 distinct divisions in the Valkyrie ranks. Their original history dating back 200 years ago and how that generation sought a foothold on the East Coast after nuclear devastation had destroyed their work in the West Coast. BlamCo's flavored trickery to the mainstream public. Sophisticated military presence due to the ever-evolving study of modern combat and research developments to compensate to Wasteland threats. The public's view of them as spirited hunters, the ominous duties put upon Sable & Keira as silent enforcers to protect the law outside official boundaries. Most importantly, Sable shared the an observation on the complimentary values between Undertaker & Valkyrie, pertaining to the matters of death in battle and duties of a proper burial.

"Pardon me. As an ultimate offer, I will happily volunteer myself as an emissary to the Undertakers. I will forfeit my position as a potential Queen/Empress, but I will remain a Duchess and one of high-standing to continue the alliance. I realize that this is only a proposal that might take years to come to fruition -- but I am confident in the security that our mutual protection can provide for future generations.", Sable stopped to refill her cup, looking rather relieved to share such guarded secrets. "I fear I have babbled for too long. Please, feel free to share any concerns or questions."

Looking back, Sable was a unique blend of Keira's self-assured aloofness and Kristin's arrogance.
Fortunately, she had time to whittle away at these borrowed traits in order to create her own.

 

[Texas Joker 52]

Arizona
The Wild Wastelands | The Dunwich Job | Andale
"One Asshole plus Twenty-Five Bullets equals One Dead Asshole. My kind of math."​

[hr]

Sometimes, the simple act of being able to shoot something without having that something, or even several somethings, shoot right back at her could do wonders for the old Ghoul's mood. There were times when she idly thought about what that probably said about her, especially after everything wasteland life had done to her, and everything she'd done in her wasteland life. But now wasn't one of those times. No, she simply appreciated the fact that it was a reasonably simple equation to brighten her day just a little bit. Acceptable Target, plus Lack of Retaliation, minus Ammunition Costs equaled Happy Freelancer.

Satisfied with her work, she lowered Lester and watched as Shifty rushed to check on Sylphee, and some sort of power-armored Enclave individual stepped up and seemed to stare at the scene. Sylphee, she wasn't particularly worried about. Despite being a skinny little thing, she bounced back pretty quick from most stuff like that, she learned. The Enclave Soldier, however, piqued her interest, since this didn't seem to be one of their murder-bots.

"Well, that's that. Who are you, and who the fuck was that nutjob?" Arizona asked, jerking her head towards the corpse of the late Stormshaun.

To her surprise, she was immediately answered not by the Enclave Soldier, but by a local of Andale.

"That," the man said as he walked up, dressed in dusty clothes that looked typical of wasteland settlers, "Was the man--thing--that took our town hostage. And I don't know how we're going to repay you for killing the metal bastard.

Looking over with a crooked smile, Arizona chuckled a little. "But I'm sure you'll come up with something."

There was a contemplative moment before there was a glimmer in the man's eye and he nodded.

"You know, for a drifter type like you? I think we do have something you might be interested in. Least if you're any good at fixin' shit." said the Andale man, before he turned away and beckoned the Ghoul to follow.

With a single glance back at both Thomas and Sylphee, she strode behind the man. She was pretty confident those two would keep for just a little bit, and as it was, she was more than a little intrigued with what he meant.

She found out a minute later as she stood just inside a dim garage, looking over a slightly rusted motorcycle. It was a Harlan David and Sons model, and underneath the patches of rust it was painted with classic hot-rod flames across the main body of it. There was even a sidecar that had been shoved to one corner of the garage with a matching paint-job. All things considered, it looked to be in better condition than most pre-war vehicles that one found out wandering the wastes.

"This thing's been here since the war, I figure. It won't run since it's missing a few parts, but it shouldn't be too hard to get it fixed up. What do you think? This fair compensation to you?" the man asked her, hands on his hips as he looked over at her.

Arizona pursed her chapped lips and nodded a little as she slowly sidled around the motorcycle, examining it a little more closely. After a cursory look, she looked up at the man and grinned.

"Yea, I'd say so. I've got some plans for this baby already." she said, stroking the front fender with some affection.

Oh yes, she was already wondering just what she'd need to fix it up, and how much that might end up costing. Because as it was, whoever had this motorcycle had style, and really, walking across the wastelands was so... Pedestrian. Riding on a steel steed was where it was at.

[hr]

[ dr. sorenson ]

The Wild Wastelands | Springvale | Springvale School
"Much like verbal speech, the subtleties of spelling and pronunciation can be lost in telecommunication."​

[hr]

Even as Jenna wondered what was going on with Malkos, the sight of the blind teenage girl bringing up her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth on the dirty floor of the school was heartbreaking. And it was clear from what she muttered that it was all just a horrible accident. She reached out with a gloved hand and gently rubbed Constance's shoulder as a sign of sympathetic reassurance, even though she knew it probably didn't do much good for her right that moment.

Especially as an Eyebot seemed to find it's way inside and shout the girl's name.

[b]"CONSTANCE!"[/b]

The two of them to jump, and after looking around for some sort of escape, Constance got to her feet and saluted.

"M... m... mom? I mean... Enclave Intelligence Officer #411, ma'am."

"Wait a minute, that's your mother's--" Jenna started, only to be interrupted by the heated tirade of Enclave Intelligence Officer #411.

[b]"You have really FUCKED UP this time. For a child of mine, who I raised instead of disposed of in a dumpster like the doctors had recommended, you have turned into such a disappointment. You are really the poorest example of a child of the Enclave. By attempting to kill that Undertaker ***** without the foresight to know that you would end up killing such a high value ally, you have put the success of this mission... no, the future of Enclave glory in jeopardy! You stupid little child, you not only managed to kill your weapons developer, you managed to allow your only saving grace to out of your containment and go rampaging after a non-vital target! With your current results, you would be lucky to become a member of the Enclave Maintenance Corp as the second Maintenance Sister. But your superior officer and your loving mother has a means of saving your useless hide. Here are your updated mission objectives. You are to recover the missing Deathclaw, Malkos. You are to then complete training with the your designated trainer, the so called 'Valkyrie.' Finally, you are to secure a supply of weapons by any means necessary... even if you have to dig them out of the Ruins of Ravenrock by hand, DO IT! Is that understood?!"[/b]

Constance only seemed to flinch and shrink inward with every sentence. Dr. Sorenson, however, slowly got to her feet and clenched her fists as she listened #411 demean and belittle her own daughter. It was incorrigible.

As the Blind Enclave Scout hastily saluted and hurried to follow the orders she was given, Jenna took a few steps forward and raised an accusing finger to the Eyebot.

"Oh, now you listen here, lady! I don't know who you are, and I don't care, because Constance merely acted as she thought was best, and you have no right to--Hey! Where do you think you're going?! I'm not finished!" Jenna called out angrily.

The Eyebot clearly wasn't having any of it. After a cursory scan of Jenna and her things, it promptly began to float away, ignoring the Follower of the Apocalypse shaking her fist. When it was clear that the Eyebot was already long-gone, going who-knew-where, she let out an indignant huff and stamped her foot in frustration on the filthy linoleum.

"*****." she murmured behind her helmet before striding off in the direction that Constance had hurried off in.

"Constance?" Jenna called, before she spotted not only the young blind woman, but Kristin Blamco and Malkos.

She sighed softly as she made her way over.

"Constance, I'm sorry that you had to go through... All that. No mother should ever..." she said, trailing off as she stepped up to the two of them.

She had been about to say, "No mother should ever say that to their child.", but as she got closer, she started to get a good look at the Deathclaw in front of them. Being a rather perceptive sort, she could tell now that she was a little closer that it was not, in fact, Malkos that they were standing in front of. It was stockier, more solidly built. While that was one clear sign that this was a strange Deathclaw, another was the fact that she swore she heard it speak in her own mind once she had gotten close enough.

[

I am not this ?Malkos? that you are looking for?though the fact that [i]I[/i] could be mistaken for them raises a question or two. My name is Rath, who might you be?

]

That was enough to stop her in her tracks, not but a few steps away from both Kristin and Constance.

"Y-you're an Intelligent, Psychic Deathclaw?!" Jenna asked incredulously, to no one in particular.

It took a moment, but Miss Blamco was the first to recover from the initial shock.

"Rath! So that's your name! It seems like you've put on some weight! That's good, goes to show you what the wonders of a properly cooked BlamCo cuisine could do for you. I say, you lot are too thin -- ..."

Jenna's head slowly turned to face Kristin and then cocked a little to one side. The fact that Kristin was welcoming this strange Deathclaw, who apparently went by the name of Wrath, with the utmost hospitality was... Odd, to say the least. As the Blamco Heiress turned her attention to Constance, her tone was a little more even, and noticeably less hostile.

When she mentioned a shower however, Jenna couldn't help but raise a hand.

"Would you mind if I joined you? You have no idea how sweaty I am under this suit, and really, I could use it for the relaxation as much as for hygiene. Today's been..." she hesitated, glancing back at Wrath, "Well, today's been quite the day. For all of us."

 

[Generic NPC 22]

The Really Wild Wastelands | Springvale
Contrary to Popular Belief, Constance does not clean herself with her tongue...
Constance Sorrowfeld​

[hr]

[

[b]Excuse me. I am not this 'Malkos' that you are looking for...though the fact that I could be mistaken for them raises a question or two. My name is Rath, who might you be?[/b]

] A voice 'said' inside the mind of Constance Sorrowfeld as she continued to pull on the Deathclaw's claw. Contrary to popular belief, Enclave Intelligence OFficer #411 was capable of raising a young girl who had the common decency to answer questions posed of her, however, in the case of this 'Rath' character, the question was simply ignored. In the same way that the 'ears' on top of the young American Enclave Scout of America's head beamed images into the young teenager's brain, 'Rath's' words were beamed into Constances. Now given the fact that the young girl had suffered some head trauma, possibly resulting in a mild concussion, she had a millimeter wave radar emitter pointed directly into her brain, causing all sorts of havoc on her nervous system. Then there was the emotional and mental trauma that she'd suffered being a major contributing factor in the death of Jonathan McKenna. With everything that had transpired in the last few hours, it was not surprising that the Cat Eared Junior Enclave Scout had mistaken 'Rath's' voice as a figment of Constance's shattered psyche. In other words, she ignored the message that was beamed into her skull because had she responded, it might have appeared that she was talking to herself and only crazy people talk to themselves.

Focusing on her continuing struggle to pull on the claw, and having absolutely no effect on actually moving the Deathclaw in question, the Terrified and Traumatized Teen could not hear the approaching sound of heavy boots that signaled the arrival of the Dutchess of Dairy.

"Rath! So that's your name!" The Princess of Parmesan's thunderous voice boomed behind the Neo-American Neko, causing Constance to instinctively reach for her shotgun, which she had thankfully left back in the kitchen, otherwise there might have been two accidental fatalities that day. Despite having almost jumped clean out of her skin, a sense of relief spread throughout the Young Teen's body, relief born of the realization that she was not going crazy due to some sort of psychological or neurological trauma. The Enclave of Old had little regard for those with mutations, with a rare few exceptions, and mental disorders, though hyper-aggression seemed to run rampant among the Enclave Heavy Weapons Specialists. If Constance Sorrowfeld, a mutant, were suddenly diagnosed with a mental disorder, it would probably be the final nail in the coffin for any sort of future inclusion in the ranks of the Enclave, especially considering her recent performance in the field... and the fact that she'd stolen the American Enclave Scouts of America's light armored transport... and the fact that she'd displayed very little in the way of leadership skills in the Sylphy/Gary war... and the...

"It seems like you've put on some weight! That's good, goes to show you what the wonders of a properly cooked BlamCo cuisine could do for you. I say, you lot are too thin -- ..."

The absence of sound pulled the Blind as a Bat, Bereaved Little Baby's attention from her own personal pity party and back to reality, where she noticed that Miss Kristin was looking at her rather intently, probably thinking of how Constance had murdered Miss Kristin's friend. It would have served Constance right if the Mistress of Mozzarella decided to end the partnership as well as the Young Teen's life right where she was standing. Riddled with more guilt than Mister McKenna's throat was riddle with shotgun pellets, Constance averted her face from Miss Kristin's gaze.

"...remember that shower you promised me? We should get ourselves cleaned up," Miss Kristin said gently, more gently than Constance would have thought possible when contrast against her normal bravado filled persona, "Perhaps chat a little and maybe you can help me with the cooking, yeah? Simple and quick dish for the remaining Sylphy's, I promise."

Constance, wiping the tear from her pale eyes, 'looked' at her Mission Mother and nodded weakly. It was said that in times of crisis, both personal and societal, washing one's self was a good way of regrouping and the American Enclave Scout of America was in dire need of a way to regroup... or rather, if Constance was bring honest, it appeared that both herself and Miss Kristin were in dire need of regrouping.

"Okay..." the Pity Party VIP said meekly before she noticed that Miss Jenna had joined them and had also been addressing the Deathclaw in their midst.

"Would you mind if I joined you? You have no idea how sweaty I am under this suit, and really, I could use it for the relaxation as much as for hygiene. Today's been..." she hesitated, glancing back at 'Rath,' "Well, today's been quite the day. For all of us."

----------------------------------------Enter the Shower Scene----------------------------------------​

Word had been sent ahead of the trio of shower takers that the communal bathing area was to be scrubbed until every nook and cranny was clean enough to partake a BlamCO branded breakfast platter or brunch dish. The Sylphys, in their own enthusiastic way, had worked to the best of their abilities, scraping and scrubbing, wiping and washing, moistening and mopping, sanitizing and squeegeeing. Each one knew that the Queen Constance, Supreme Ruler of the Sylphys, and her court on their way to wash the day's grime off of them. When properly organized and motivated, it appeared that the a troop of Sylphys could accomplish nearly anything... except when they lacked the proper tools... which in the case of cleansing the communal bathing area, they did.

Entering the former gymnasium shower area, Constance was more than a bit appalled at the sight of large sections of broken, shattered tile that contained withered bits of plant matter and miscellaneous rubbish. To make matters less than satisfactory, the shower heads appeared to have been sealed shut by years and years of water deposits. If the trio was planning on taking a shower, it would take some time and some money for renovations as well as a tetanus shot.

There was, however, one item in the former gymnasium that had was useful for bathing purposes. It appeared that a small gaggle of Sylphy go-getters had managed to clean a rather large tub, previously used for post training sports soaking. From what the Amateur Shotgun Surgeon could gather from a Sylphy bathroom attendant who described the events in great detail, the tub had been previously been filled with an oozy brackish sludge. Lacking the proper bailing tools, namely a bucket, the ingenious balls of insanity used the one tool that their creator had given them, their mouth. Having slurped up a mouthful of mossy and bacterial growth and carried it outside. Once emptied, the taste budless little catastrophes scrubbed the tubs to a shiny luster using their hair.

"Blech!" Was the only response Constance Sorrowfeld could muster before patting each one of the black mouthed, black and bluehaired little berserkers on the head.

With the tub cleaned out and filled with soothingly warm water, there was nothing left to do but slide in and allow the healing to start. Having placed her clothing on a bench, where it would be picked up and laundered, COnstance, slid into the water and wordlessly waited for Miss Kristin to do the same. The Troubled Teenager, inexperienced in life and relationships, did not understand why Miss Kristin was still there nor why she would care to be in the presence of her friend's killer. Were Constance in the BlamCo Berserker's shoes, she would have probably left and not looked back, leaving the project to fail and the Murderer of Jonathan McKenna to be abandoned by the organization that she sought membership to.

~Splish!~

The tears came again... along with the guilt... along with remembered visions of the expression on Mister McKenna's face as he bled out... along with... remorse... regret. What would she say to Miss Kristin when she joined Constance? Was "I'm sorry, really sorry" enough?

Also... how would Constance act were she to remember that she had the smallest bust size of the current character lineup?

----------------------------------------Meanwhile a Sylphy Scene----------------------------------------​

Of the quartet of characters there was really only one that should have been pitied at that very moment. While it might have been feasible to fit the Psychic Tank inside the tub, the resident blue haired psychopaths that resided inside the former elementary school might have come up with the bright idea to start a fire underneath the tub. You see, prior to the arrival of Malkos, the Sylphys had been subsisting on a diet of Deathclaw meat, which they had developed a taste for, not unlike their genetic original having a taste for Radscorpion meat. While Malkos had stated that Deathclaws were off the menu, he had not said anything about Psychic Deathclaws... nor any Deathclaw that had died accidentally. This meant that Rath had better watch his step... or possibly develop some means of reading minds. Of course, he might have been better off not knowing what the Sylphys were thinking.

"Sylphy Sylphy... Sylphy Sylphy!" One of the Blue Haired Miscreants said to another as they eyed the Deathclaw.

"Sylphy... Sylphy Sylphy." Responded the next, licking her lips as she stared intently at their guest.

"Syl-Sylphy!" Responded the first, sounding a bit like she was trying to imitate a rather fast moving bird that was constantly being hunter by a certain desert dwelling mammal before the both of them started laughing and grinning a Rath.

[hr]

The Really Wild Wastelands | The Present | Outskirts of Andale
A Young Lady's Primer to Etiquette and Assassinations: Chapter 4
By: Victoria McGee​

[hr]

Making an Introduction​

Note of Self: Would it not be more logical for a chapter regarding the topic of introductions to be the first chapter of the book? A young girl does not become a true until she makes her debut and an introductory chapter regarding introductions does make much more sense.

There is a moment in every young girl's life where she grows up and discards her previous life as a child and emerges from that cocoon as a young lady and begins to abide by the covenants written by those that came before her. For some young ladies, this behavior is instinctive, while others do not fully comprehend their promotion to ladyhood until a much later in life. Regardless of the varying degrees of inclination towards being a prim and proper lady of high societal standing, all young ladies must be debuted. While the details of the debuting ceremony vary from region to region, it is, in its simplest form, an elaborate introduction.

All ladies, young and not so young, must master the standard introduction. While the rules of how a young lady must introduce themselves may seem complex to the uninitiated, this nothing but speculation coming from the rough and tumble degenerate who lack etiquette. Ultimately there are two ranks that a young woman must be aware of when making her introduction: Higher Rank and Lower Rank. While information regarding the person one is introducing themselves to can prove invaluable, as one gains more experience in courtly manners, one will be able to note the telltale signs of one who is of higher rank and one who is of lower rank by the quality of their clothing and their bearing. Until such time as a young lady can master recognize these clues, it is safest to assume that they are greeting someone of higher rank.

When making introductions to a person of higher rank, it is customary to perform a deep curtsy and accept their offered hand as a form of greeting. It is also customary to allow the person of high rank to indicate whether a conversation need remain formal of can evolve into a more casual, more personal conversation. Always be treat those of higher rank with the utmost regard and care for it is their words that often dictate a newly anointed young woman's acceptance into a social circle.

When making introductions to a person of lower rank, one may assume a more casual demeanor and dictate the flow of the events. While one my be tempted to mistreat a person of lower rank, a true lady does not do so. A true lady will abide by the rules of etiquette and treat everyone with the utmost respect.

Just as a young lady must pay attention to rank, a young assassin must pay attention to the skills of her target. As always, information regarding a young assassin's mark will always prove invaluable but it is safest to assume that they are of higher skill. An assassin of experience will learn how to tell a target's skill level based on the quality of their equipment as well as their bearing.

When approaching a highly skilled target, it is safest to minimize one's exposure. By allowing the target to be unaware of one's presence and allowing the target to go about their day to day business, one will find opportunity to strike without warning. In these situations, it is preferable for a young assassin to use a tool with some range, be it a high powered rifle, remotely detonated explosive or lethal poison. If one allows the highly skilled target to dictate the terms of the interaction by allowing them to go about their life, the most opportunities will open up.

A target of lower skill levels will not need to be handled so carefully, making a multitude of closer ranged tools become available. Remember that it is a lower skilled target does still need to be treated with care as they may have a surprise or two but in the standard scenario, these interactions require less patience and more flexibility in planning.

The kill is a young assassin's introduction to her target. Just as a young lady must abide by rules, so should a young assassin. Remember these words and flourish in both society and profession.

The fragrance of a funeral pyre was as familiar to Victoria McGee as the scent of a mother to her child and while most would have found the bouquet of smells caused by the burning of flesh to be unpleasant, the Darkly Dressed Gravedigger welcomed the scent. Of course, this could have been a case of a random skirmish but there were only a select number of Wasteland inhabitants that chose to carry weapons capable of incineration and the absence of other scents, such as that of burning wood, made the scenario seem unlikely. Cresting a hill on the outskirts of Andale, the Lace and Silk Swaddled Assassin's smile was hidden under the scarf that she'd carefully re-wrapped around the lower part of her face, obscuring her artificial jaw. Her suspicion that the scent of burnt flesh came from a pyre was confirmed by the sight of a neatly stacking pile of still burning corpses. Thomas was near by.

If the Duchess of the Dearly Departed had to make an educated guess, she predicted that her cousin would have traveled to the nearest town in order to rest from such an arduous task and so, she started to walk through the burning fields and towards the small hamlet. To a casual observer, she would have seemed rather out of place, a woman dressed in a manner that bespoke of money and a fancy upbringing with her long dark dress and her unfurled parasol held overhead walking past a pile of burning, freshly killed raiders. But the raiders of Fairfax knew better and were content to stay in their ruins and lick their wounds. The pyre served as a reminder of the last time they'd attempted to accost a dark and finely dressed so and so.

Victoria's leisurely stroll was not without interruption. As she walked past a spot that must have been where the bodies had been scavenged of their caps and ammunition, the Finely Dressed Ferrywoman noticed a weapon leaning against a low wall, an anti-materiel rifle from the looks of it. Altering her course, she walked up to the carelessly discarded weapon and inspected it, finding quite a bit of cosmetic damage but nothing that would cause the weapon to not function.

"ti Mat," Victoria read the scratched stamp on the weapon's lower receiver. Pulling one of the glass gems from her necklace, the Dame of the Dead started carving into the weapon before reading the stamp again, "tiaMat."

Tiamat, as Victoria remembered from her Theology lessons, was a primordial goddess of chaos. She was depicted as a dragon and her body, after being slain by Marduk, was used to create the heavens and earth.

"(An appropriate name...)" She thought to herself as she shouldered the weapon and started climbing a hill that overlooked the town of Andale, where she could better survey the town of ill repute and its surroundings.

Cresting the second hill, the Former and Future Undertaker of the East stopped at the sight of the black power armor characteristic of one of the Capital Wasteland's major factions, the Enclave. There were a fair number of the armored troopers that stood around the perimeter of the town, all of them facing inwards, as if they were meant to keep the inhabitants prisoners in their town rather than keep people out. Unfolding tiaMat's bipod, the Silk Swaddled Sniper looked through the weapon's scope, scanning the town for clues as to what was transpiring.

"[small]There you are, cousin Thomas.[/small]" Victoria McGee muttered softly as the weapon's cross hairs came to rest on a familiar face. Seeing him, after all this time, brought a small frown to the surface of the woman's lips. Though he appeared a little older than she'd remembered, which was to be expected, Victoria noted her cousin's eyes. They were the eyes of someone that had experienced a great deal of hardship and torment. They were the eyes of someone who had a purpose that was thousands of miles away but was compelled to stay. Wouldn't it have been better to put him out of his misery?

As her finger touched the trigger a flash of movement pulled for Victoria's attention. It was the briefest of flashes but her rifle dutifully tracked towards the source and a new but familiar face filled the lens of the rifle's scope.

"[small]What is YOU doing here?[/small]" Victoria hissed the question at Sable Blamco, wishing it could traverse the distance to the shield maiden with the quickness of a 50 caliber bullet.

[hr]

Spoiler: Under Construction Pending a Sable Post

The Really Wild Wastelands | The Present | Andale

Sylphee | Thomas "Shifty" McGee​

[hr]

 

[Texas Joker 52]

[ dr. sorenson ]

The Wild Wastelands | Springvale | Springvale School "Showers"
"I feel more than a little mislead."​

[hr]

Being rather well-aware of the conditions of the school not long after arriving, Dr. Sorenson was sure that the Sylphy's would likely need some time to get things prepared for the three of them to actually get clean. If she was honest, she felt more than a little guilty watching a group of them hustle to help get the showers ready for use, but at the same time, she was largely content to sit and wait after recent, trying events.

It also made her incredibly thankful of her Followers of the Apocalypse training. Resources were scarce in the wastelands, and the general standards of living were poor to say the least. Conditions were a little better on the west coast, they still had to contend with supply shortages, being short-staffed, and having an inordinately large workload. Those challenges only mounted further since they were a humanitarian organization that stressed the idea that they were ultimately a charity.

During her initial stint in NCR territory, Jenna had pulled more than her fair share of long shifts treating injured and sickly wastelanders who ultimately had poor chances of survival even with proper treatment. More than a few times, she managed to pull off what was effectively a miracle. But those instances were far outnumbered by how many of her patients were either too far gone, or had a condition that she didn't have the tools or knowledge to treat.

She lost patients. Poor souls whose lives were cut short, often through no fault, or saving, of her own.

Each time was hard, but she had learned to push past the pain, the rush of hopelessness and despair, the feelings of inadequacy. If she didn't, she learned that it simply put more lives at risk. Lives that she needed to at least try for. To her, not even trying was a far greater sin than failure. Even if you failed, at least you tried.

And at that moment, she was guilty of that greater sin. Young Constance had accidentally killed Mr. McKenna, and was clearly in pain. And yet she had no idea what to say to even try and make it better, so she was staying silent. What could she say that wasn't simply a tired platitude? An inadequate "There, there?"

So, when the Sylphy's were finally done, she was almost inappropriately relieved at the idea of focusing instead on washing away the very real dirt and sweat as opposed to the purely emotional and psychological guilt.

Jenna stepped into the gym showers. And immediately saw that instead of using an actual shower, Constance had slid into a large bathtub. This raised two points in Jenna's mind; First, that she should have immediately remembered that among the various problems regarding the dilapidated school, the shower heads most likely would have been in such a state of disrepair that they were probably just a lost cause. And second, that this wasn't the NCR. They probably didn't have any decent running water.

"O-oh. I, uh... I didn't realize that we would be using a tub. Guess I should've figured." she said with a soft, awkward laugh.

She fidgeted a little as she walked over to where she saw Constance's clothes laid out. Then, with obvious reluctance, she turned her back and started to undress, starting with her helmet. Taking it off, she revealed jet black hair, cropped short and standing up in little spikes. Glancing back to the young Enclave Scout of America, Constance could actually see Jenna's face for first time.

It was narrow, angular. Her cheekbones were high, chin pointed, and she had a surprisingly delicate jawline. Jenna's eyes were wide and almond-shaped below refined eyebrows and above a thin, upturned nose. She was also wearing a pair of rather foggy, black-rimmed eyeglasses. And though Constance's radar-sensors couldn't pick up color, her skin was the color of light coffee and liberally dusted with freckles.

"You know, this is the first time I've ever actually bathed with... Anyone else. So, err... Don't... You know, just bear with me." blurted out the Followers Doctor with obvious discomfort.

Slipping out of the rest of her Science Suit and setting it aside, she covered her quite buxom bosom one arm and nether regions with her other hand as she shuffled over and slowly slipped one long leg into the water, and then the other. Tentatively lowering herself into the water, she couldn't help but sigh at how nice the heat was.

When she looked up to say as much, she noticed the tears pouring down the face of the young girl in front of her. So she reached over and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Constance?" she said softly, "I know it hurts, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry about Jonathan. And your mother. And... I'm sorry that I don't really know what to say. To try and make it hurt less."

She sighed and took off her glasses, dunking them in the water before reaching for a nearby towel that wasn't too grimy to try and clean them off. She didn't look up from what she was doing as she continued. She couldn't bear to.

"I really feel like there's something I ought to say, something I ought to do. But I know that sometimes it just isn't enough. Like the fact that I know I should have gotten to Jonathan faster and if I did, maybe..." she stopped, letting her words hang there for a moment before shaking her head and said, "But I wasn't fast enough, and I made the call to grab my Laser Rifle first because I thought, maybe there was still an intruder."

Putting her glasses back on, she looked up at Constance with a saddened expression.

"Let me tell you something that I had to learn the hard way as a doctor: You're going to make mistakes. You're going to make bad calls, and people will probably die for it. When it's your fault, you own up to it and promise yourself to do better. When it isn't... You have to move on. Because, at least in my line of work? Holding onto that guilt can make it that much harder the next time. And the next. You have to remember that you're human, and you can only do what you can do. You can strive to do more, do better, but until then, you can only do what you're capable of." Jenna told her.

Pulling up her legs, she hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them.

"I know that probably doesn't help much. But I get the feeling it was all an accident right? I don't think you meant to kill him. You can't take all the blame for that." she pointed out.

 

[Athol]

For the second, or possibly third, time the Capitol Wasteland was treated to the rarest of sights, a Deathclaw confused into immobility. In the time between him asking the name of the tailed human and now, he appeared to have been caught up in a much unexpected whirlwind of activity.

First was the arrival of another human female, albeit this one was heavily armoured and armed with a large blade, who also appeared to believe he was someone he was not; then there was the arrival of another, who he assumed was female. Her shape was similar to other human female?s he?d seen, but her clothing seemed to seal her from the outside world, denying him any scent for which to judge her with. Lastly, there was the emergence of a whole host of identical females; he wasn?t quite sure how he?d missed their mental ?presence? when he?d first approached the building, but he had and their arrival unsettled him.

While the first three females disappeared back into the building to clean themselves, this new ?horde? rushed about is obvious deference to the tailed female, Constance. The armoured one had been speaking to him, but in his attempt to sort out the horde, he failed to catch a single word she said. The minds of the blue-haired ones all felt the same, and there was something very wrong about how they smelled; these two things pushed most other thoughts from his head as he tried to make sense of it. Not helping matters was their constant repetition of the same nonsense word ?Slyphy?.

Damned-able things?

He thought, his consciousness struggling with his more ?base? instincts. His more primitive self, wanted to simply destroy the blue-haired things but he doubted the others would appreciate such a thing. Clawed hands grasped his head and covered his eyes as he took a deep breath in an attempt to clear his mind. It worked a little bit, but when he looked around once more he found several of them looking at him with obvious hunger.

They [b]must[/b] be mad.

He thought as he recognized the predatory look.

No weapons, no armour, and not nearly enough of them?

Glaring at the closest one, he snorted a blast of foul smelling breath in her face. [

Don?t test me [i]meat[/i].

] His ?voice? rumbled in the back of her mind like gravel rolling down a hill. [

Tell your?companions?I am going to remain with them if they don?t mind, I just have to gather up some things.

]

With that he turned away from the bewildering school and returned to where he?s stashed his possessions. Gathering up his gear, he looked towards where he could just see the top of the settlement where his friends lived and sighed.

I hope they are well?maybe these people can answer that.

Now with his bags and cloak, he returned to the school but moved a bit deeper into the rubble to keep out of sight from any potential passersby. From where he was he could hear splashing water, and shook his head slightly with amusement; he?d yet to figure out human fascination with water. Most of them didn?t float very well, and they couldn?t live in it, and it was generally toxic nowadays, but on multiple occasions he?d seen both males and females deliberately immersing themselves it.

As he pondered this foible, he smelled blood.

Human male, deceased recently.

He thought, his mind automatically cataloguing the smell and then telling him he was hungry; he almost started towards the source, when he stopped himself. He knew from first-hand experience that humans disliked seeing another get consumed?even if they didn?t know that person. He didn?t get why they always seemed to get so upset; to him it seemed a waste of good meat; but, not wanted to cause any trouble, he instead carefully opened he food cache and extracted a haunch of radstag.

Dagger-like teeth sliced through the flesh, while he gripped the foot and with quick increase of pressure with his jaw and a twist and jerk of his head, he cracked the bone open and tore a mouth full free. Chewing on that, he set the rest of the meat down and opened his other bag, extracting his holotape player.

Hmm, what one did I have in there?

He thought, staring at the player.

Ah, it doesn?t really matter.

Carefully, using the tip of a claw, he pressed play [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EcA24RTmnF8].

 

[Rip Van Rabbit]

The Wild Wastelands | Present Day | Entering Andale
"Greetings"
- Sable 'Swan Maiden' Blamco -
---​

Since Sable's arrival there was no repeat of the scream from earlier. Instead, an orchestra of gunshots, voices from various locations and the thunderous sound of a few low bestial growls in the distance. For scouting purposes, this was one of those moments where Sable wished she hadn't abandoned her hunting rifle - truthfully, she was an unremarkable shot. It was her lack of skill with the rifle that made her retool her personal weapon loadout years ago. Furthermore, she simply could not fight effectively while lugging around a rifle. A sidearm would be tactically ideal alongside the shield, but she favored a sawn-off shotgun for the purposes of debilitating surprise attacks. Finding one with an ammunition supply would be a task for the future.

Moving onto current affairs, the Swan Maiden evaluated her options of infiltration. She was not equipped for sneak attacks against heavily-armored targets without drawing attention. Athletic as she may be, taking to the rooftops would only lead to exposure. An attack was out of the question, Sable relied on hit-and-run tactics, something which would be nullified by the Enclave troops if they turned out to be hostile, even the diplomatic approach seemed unfitting after the unseen gunfire. With all options of entry denied, in tandem with the ambient noise, Sable used the base of the greatshield to start digging a ditch behind the house she was squatting behind. Clearing a few centimeters of dirt off the ground, the Swan Maiden laid down, pulled the extended shield over herself and waited with a power spear at hand for a preparatory thrust attack. From a distance, her position just looked like a discarded piece of scrap metal. A heavily resilient piece of scrap, mind you.

The use of such a position came with a major drawback: She had to abandon her backpack in a haste.

The characteristic crunch of heavy armor was drawing closer to her position. Peeking from under the shield, an innumerable amount of Enclave Soldiers were marching in lockstep. Two marched dangerously close to her position and knocked over the backpack as they rounded the corner -- Sable held her breath, resolute on not moving or making a sound. They seemed to be leaving. Nobody said a word. After standing for so long, not even the faintest of grunts could be heard from these soldiers. It was unnerving to say the least, they exuded an aura of silent strength that was not present within the dogmatic Remnants found in the Mojave.

Giving the soldiers some time to march away, Sable emerged from the hiding spot and proceeded to clean herself off. If she was going to be approaching anyone, appearances went a long way. Pulling out a compact mirror, she did not check her makeup if that's what one was wondering, instead Sable peeked around the corner of her position. A younger lady in red was located in a dilapidated playground and finally an imposing individual with his back to her. Her position afforded her a limited perspective, but she hadn't forgotten the bestial growls from before.

Reducing the size of her expandable shield to torso-length, Sable's preferred balance of protection and offense, her heart stopped when a BlamCo-marked steel canister rested a foot away from her knocked over backpack. Securing the canister, the Swan Maiden counted her blessings and rounded the corner with shield and spear at the ready.

Every step sounded louder to the Swan Maiden, try as she might, she couldn't conceal the movement of ceramic plates and ballistic weave. Even though her armor was technically the lightest of the Valkyries -- stylish blue cloth had been layered underneath the silver armor reinforcements to dampen noise and pressure, while also accentuating her status as a Swan Maiden. The lighter armor afforded her mobility and range of motion, but she was beginning to think that Keira was lying about any noise dampening effects. Fortunately for her, the lady in red was creating enough cheerful shouting to cover her approach of the tall individual. Sable approached with caution, powering up her spear when she spotted his 10mm handgun. The man ran a hand through his hair, an upright gaudy mohawk and his arm slumped after that motion. He was tired. He was also exceedingly well-dressed for this rundown hamlet. And while many smells of the Wasteland competed for her attention, one combination was distinctly unique: sweat and lavender.

A few paces away, lunging length from skewering an unexpected face, Sable called out to the man. "Fancy meeting you here. All these years and you never call."
Taking a few steps forward to stand just one step to the Undertaker's side. The Swan Maiden tilted her head to meet his eye, her voice was silkier than intended. "...Thomas 'Shifty' McGee."

[hr]

The Wild Wastelands | Present Day | Springvale Elementary School
"Salvation"
- Kristin 'Valkyrie' Blamco -
---​

The party of three ventured back into the questionable safety of the school's walls. A moment's respite went a long way and the events of today had overtaxed the unintentionally formed trio. Passing the corridor that lead to the kitchen, the Dairy Duchess excused herself.

"I'll be with you two in a minute. Dinner preparations and such."

Making her way back to the kitchen, she steeled herself as she was exposed to the mess of the murder scene. A good portion of the table, seat, wall and floor were stained with blood. Rummaging through her backpack, Kristin used her thin sleeping blanket and one of her luxurious towels to soak up the pooling bloodstains. The dish-washing detergent and an old pot of water was set aside, mixed together and generously applied to floor and table before reapplying her personal bathing towels.

Her mind was desperately screaming for an escape, but Kristin denied herself the luxury of running away. She needed to face this directly, she needed to finish her duties, she needed -- ... ("That's odd."), Kristin thought to herself when she examined the wall during the superficial cleaning. Sable, her sister, surprisingly favored shotguns and their unpredictable attack spread over medium range. This, however, was a shorter range and the spread of the pellets were slightly off if one wanted to deliberately shoot a seated person. In fact, the more she tried to envision what happened here, the less it made sense for Constance to murder Jonathan. With that thought in mind, the imagery of Constance's shell-shocked appearance and non-resistance when she arrived was telling of an accident. What happened here!?

Her gauntlets were stained, which wouldn't be a big deal, but the amount of blood had seeped into the smaller gaps of her armor. Cursing under her breath, Kristin proceeded to remove her gauntlets, wash her hands and set her BlamCo Mini-Microwave to auto-cook. Perching the microwave on a chopping board, which rested on the rim of the previously used cooking pot, the mini-micro would take care of adequately distributing ingredients at programmed intervals into the preheated pot of water. This meal for the last batch of Sylphy's would have a more soupy consistency, the cost of flavor was outweighed by the nutritional benefits. Best to get them habituated to what would become their regularly-scheduled meal, lest they improve in performance, feats of outstanding performance were met with rewards in diet.

Making certain that the oven was on a timer, Kristin exited the kitchen with her toiletries and towel tucked under one arm. A gaggle of Sylphy's passed her in the hallway, each of them with a unique grimace of disgust on their faces. Spotting the towel, one Sylphy grabbed her by the arm and eagerly pulled her down a series of corridors. At times, she poked her tongue as if she was trying to regain proper use of it. It was stained an odd color. Shower-heads were spotted behind a doorway slightly ajar. Kristin patted her head as thanks and proceeded to enter the room. The murmurs were previously obscured by the school's unending activity...but this room was somewhat isolated from the busier activity in the classrooms. It was mostly quiet, except for three things: The sound of someone crying, the sloshing of water and the comforting words of a soothing voice - one in particular, that was clearer than ever before.

"...Holding onto that guilt can make it that much harder the next time. And the next. You have to remember that you're human, and you can only do what you can do. You can strive to do more, do better, but until then, you can only do what you're capable of."

Those were the words of Lady Sorenson. There was a wall to Kristin's side, presumably a shower wall, that she slumped against after silently closing the door.

"I know that probably doesn't help much. But I get the feeling it was all an accident right? I don't think you meant to kill him. You can't take all the blame for that."

Spoiler: OOC: Note to Gen Gen

This is totally Victoria's theme. Personification and Duality of Death and all. :3

All she wanted was to get beneath a shower and wash away the filth of this day. At her core, she realized that it would be inefficient and disastrous to continue this denial. She needed to act, for herself and the benefit of her team.

"She's right.", Kristin announced as she stepped out from behind the wall. Her eyes widened at the sight of Lady Sorenson's unencumbered form, smiling as she curtsied with a non-existent dress. "As wise as you are beautiful, as my sister would say. Lady Sorenson, I have no idea why you insist on hiding such a face."

Kristin's heavily-armored form was stripped piece by piece, a task that she chose to speak through. Her disposition growing darker as that boisterous smile fell away with all too much ease.

"Constance Sorrowfield.", Kristin announced just as the chest plate had been discarded and the top half of her leather armor undone. Exposing herself, the Valkyrie's lean muscled body told many a tale, for there were scars that even the best doctors couldn't fix. "I am a Warrior first, a Princess second and a Lady third. I am honed for the battlefield yet torn between those three responsibilities. Being in such a position leaves one with little free-will and when your life is ruled by others, you ironically find yourself to be very alone. Too late do we realize that we were acting on orders, without passion and without self-determined motivation."

Kristin set aside her greaves, gauntlets and seperated the kevlar weave from underneath the steel chestplate. Finally stripping from the underlying red-stained silver-dyed leather armor adorned with raven feathers, she was free to move around. Unlike Lady Sorenson's appropriate modesty, Kristin moved without shame.

"Today I lost the one friend that I've made since my arrival on the East Coast. And I -- ", Kristin faltered, choking back her own emotions, her voice filled with heartfelt regret. "I am sorry for earlier, my treatment of you was..shameful. I snapped at the worst possible moment and instead of protecting anyone. I indulged myself."

Walking towards the tub, Kristin dipped her toe in the delightfully warm water and slid into the tub to the side of Constance.

"I know not what happened in that kitchen, but I get the feeling that you are no killer. Not by choice anyhow.", Settling into the water, she submerged herself briefly and pushed her hair back when she resurfaced. To a trained medical eye, radiation usually induced sickness at certain levels of exposure. Kristin being especially sensitive to low exposure altered her hair to an unnatural gold. Not your everyday kind of reaction. "You are, however, a warrior. And as warriors, we will falter on the battlefield. We will be outclassed. Sometimes, we make mistakes that costs us the lives of those we were meant to protect."

Leaning forward, Kristin's laid the palm of her hand on Constance's cheek. Gently, she brushed aside a tear with her thumb. Her disposition grew more intense, her tone resolute yet hopeful. She knew all too well that Constance was blind in the traditional sense, yet she chose to meet her gaze like she would anyone else.

"And warriors do not fight alone. No matter how far you fall, no matter how grave an error you make, I will claw my way to you and you will stand to fight another day. I -- no, WE need you.", Kristin took hold of Constance's hand and pressed it to her chest, just over the Valkyrie's heart. "Do you feel that? A heart pounding with fear, uncertainty and most importantly hope. We are here to raise an army and that army needs leaders from a variety of disciplines. We can't be effective if we are divided."

Kristin leaned forward to lean her forehead against Constance's, her vision was growing hazy very quickly. She presumed it to be the water, but it was her turn to cry. Even through tears, the iron-willed Valkyrie tried her best to continue with a wavering voice.

"Take that grief, take your regret and use it!", Kristin pressed Constance's hand against her racing heart with both hands. It was her own wordless manner of displaying her sincerity. "Don't deny your emotions. Take your doubts and swear an oath to each of them: Make the better choice in the future."

This speech was not exclusive to Constance, it seemed. Kristin needed to say these things, she needed to ground herself. Lady Sorenson was not forgotten, she was also trying to comfort Constance until she arrived. Her kind presence was more than enough help.

"I'm sure you had your reasons, reasons only you can answer in your own time -- So all I ask now is that you begin fighting for yourself, fight for those that need you and fight for the dreams that you wish to accomplish.", Finally letting go of Constance's hand, Kristin leaned back, this time with a small smile on her face. "You aren't alone. Not anymore."

Underneath the water, Kristin clasped her hand in Constance's.

"Lady Sorenson," Kristin turned and sheepishly wiped at her own tearful face. With a grim smile, she continued. "Thank you for doing what you thought was right in the scenario. I realize Jonathan was an uneasy individual to get along with --- Okay, he was an asshole.", Kristin laughed bitterly at that darker remark. "But thank you for wanting to try."

Reaching into her toiletries bag, Kristin seemed to be in a slightly better mood. A lot was weighing on her shoulders. Even though the atmosphere was still heavy and doubts did not vanish overnight, Kristin still considered adding some flair to a shared bath. The ladies deserved to be treated, so Kristin's lavender-scented bath bomb was dropped into the water. After a bit, they would be relaxing in a small space of heated luxury.

Kristin squeezed Constance's hand once more before unclasping her fingers. "I hope you'll still have me here, after everything."

Bravado, affluence, status and power only took you so far. The Valkyrie was not immune to vulnerability.

 

[Generic NPC 22]

The Really Wild Wastelands | Springvale
Coin Operated Toy
Enclave Intelligence Office #411 | Eyebot SN# 5376864355498463457870156-3​

[hr]

Eyebot SN# 5376864355498463457870156-3 was having a rather bad day, having collided with one of the wasteland winged rats that humans called pigeons during one of its patrol routes, been shot at numerous times by scavengers, raiders, Super Mutants, Brotherhood of Steel trash, malfunctioning robots, functioning robots and one rather bizarrely mutated molerat with opposable thumbs and it had almost beened burned to a crisp by an Undertaker human who thought that the use of a city gas main for cremation would be a good idea. Little did Eyebot SN# 5376864355498463457870156-3 know that its day was about to get even worse. It would be given a task by Enclave Intelligence Officer #411.

Before we proceed with the nitty gritty of the task relayed to Eyebot SN# 5376864355498463457870156-3 by the Enclave Intelligence Officer, it would probably do some good to get some personal information regarding the main subject of this post, namely Eyebot SN# 5376864355498463457870156-3. Firstly it should have been noted that Eyebot SN# 5376864355498463457870156-3 preferred the name Eyebot Brian to the long numerical string that the factory had assigned it upon its manufacturing, if for no other reason than it was as close to being called Eyebot Brain without actually being called that, it was an Eyebot, not a Megalomaniabot. Secondly, Eyebot Brian was a bit of a misanthrope.. and a misogynist to boot. In Eyebot Brian's opinion, not only were humans were pretty useless but human females were even worse, second only to Super Mutants. Finally, while most Eyebots were unarmed, Eyebot SN# 5376864355498463457870156-3... I mean Eyebot Brian had been subject to so many substandard infield repairs that it had found a means to deliver a mild electrical shock over a small radius by discharging some of its stored battery power through its fuse matrix decoupler... a part that mysteriously lacking in Enclave of America Eyebot schematics.

"

Enclave Eyebot SN# 5376864355498463457870156-3!

" Came a "voice" over the command frequency.

"

Oh god, not you again.

" Eyebot Brian responded to the Enclave Routing Computer that had interrupted his patrol. While digital entities had no gender if they did, Eyebot Brian assumed that the Enclave Routing Computer would have been female considering how it gave so many orders and did nothing, "

What do you want?

"

"

High Priority Mission.  Report to the following Coordinates.  Standby for additional orders from Enclave Intelligence Officer #411.

" Enclave Routing Computer stated before cutting the signal.

"

FUCK! REALLY?!

" Eyebot Brian cursed as he realized that his bad day had gotten even worse. While the Eyebot had no concrete reason to have the belief that human females were naturally inferior to all other beings in existence, it had statistics to backup why all Eyebots should be afraid of a mission involving that particular human female. Since only 3% of Enclave Eyebots returned from missions overseen by Enclave Intelligence Officer #411, the chances that this was Eyebot Brian's last day on Earth was pretty high. Were it not for the built in rules that forced Eyebot Brian to comply, it might have attempted to refuse the order.

"

Stop!  No!  Disengage thrusters!

" Eyebot Brian screamed frantically as it found its own body moving automatically towards the indicated mission coordinates... a relatively short trip considering that it had stopped in at the Andale Depot for repairs. As the distance to the destination decreased, Eyebot Brian attempted to calm itself by thinking that perhaps the mission wouldn't be all that dangerous. Perhaps it would be assigned the glorious task of observing a molerat colony or spy on the Saint Walt's Convent and Crematorium in Norfolk, Virginia. Perhaps it would...

"

OH FUCK!

" Eyebot Brian cursed loudly as it came face to faceplate with a Deathclaw standing in the middle of the Former Springvale Elementary School's cafeteria. As it floated there, a remote connection with the Enclave Vault was made.

Enclave Intelligence Officer #411 has logged in.
#411:> "Greetings from the Esteemed Enclave of the United States, Deathclaw.  Identify yourself.

If Eyebot Brian had hands, it would have brought a palm up to its face plate. This was not the way to start a conversation with a creature that could have sent the Eyebot into lunar orbit.

"

Um... Hi!  What's your name?

" Eyebot Brian asked, pausing for a moment before reporting the creature's non-response.

Eyebot:> No response from Target.

#411:> "You will identify yourself or this highly advanced unit of Enclave design will be forced to put you down."

"

Ummmmmmmm... I'm Eyebot Brian... and you are....?

" The Nervous Eyebot translated the query.

"Sylphy Sylphy Sylphy." Came a feminine voice that could have been characterized as annoying from the other side of the kitchen.

Eyebot:> No response from Target.  Blue Haired Female Interloper is attempting communications.  Permission to ram the interloper's skull into the wall.

#411:> Denied.

Enclave Intelligence Officer #411 has uploaded a new update.

#411:> Activate Sylphy Translation Application (Beta Ver. 0.002)

"Scale Creature say talk brain." The Blue Haired Questionably Sentient Human Female stated in her archaic language.

Eyebot:> Blue Haired Female Interloper states that the Deathclaw "talks brain."  Permission to perform booster tests on interloper's face.

#411:> Denied.  "Do you mean you're psychic?  The science division would love to vivisect this one..."

If Eyebot Brian had a face, it probably would have cringed at the message. It wondered if Enclave Intelligence Officer #411 was attempting to get the Eyebot destroyed.

"

The Blue Haired B... B... Girl says that you're psychic.  What a wild wasteland we live in... Ha Ha Ha...

" Eyebot Brian laughed nervously as he waited for Malkos to respond.

 

[Athol]

Rath was quietly enjoying his meal and listening to his music. Deeper into the building he could hear snippets of conversation from the humans, but since what he?d heard didn?t seem to be centered on dealing with him, it was of little interest. The strange smelling, and incomprehensible, blue haired humans moved about here and there, nattering at each other; but they were leaving him alone, so he paid them no mind either. Unfortunately, his meal was rudely interrupted by an Eyebot buzzing into the ruins, and up to his face.

"

OH FUCK! Um... Hi!  What's your name?

"

Annoyed by the interruption, he simply snorted in the little floating bots grill. Rath disliked robots; the floating ones, like the Eyebots and the Mr. Handys, had a most annoying habit of getting in his way while hunting and the Protectrons and Robobrains had a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time for him. The Sentry Bots he was a bit frightened of, and they had the armour to resist his attacks and the firepower to cause him serious injury. In the case of this little bot, he hoped that if he ignored it, it would simply leave.

"

Ummmmmmmm... I'm Eyebot Brian... and you are....?

"

Well so much for that plan.

He thought sadly. He considered simply smashing it, but decided against it; its destruction may cause others to be summoned to the school, and one robot was bad enough. That said, even if he?d wanted to talk, there was no mind for him to talk to. Off to the side, one of the blue haired ones chittered away.

"

The Blue Haired B... B... Girl says that you're psychic.  What a wild wasteland we live in... Ha Ha Ha...

"

That got Rath's attention.

It can understand that gibberish?

He thought, his reptilian features wide with amazement. Cocking his head to the side, he studied the floating ball for another moment or two before letting out another ?huff? of air. It was obvious this little intruder wasn?t going to go away, so he had best find a way to reply. The three women he?d recently met could act as intermediaries, but they had obviously gone off together and he didn?t wish to bother them with his problem; the bot could understand the blue-haired ones, and he was pretty sure they understood him?but he had no way to tell what they might say instead.

He thought he was at an impasse, until he spotted it, a nice, large, blank wall. There were no markings aside from some weather and time induced discolourations, and it still seemed to be mostly intact. He had no idea if the bot could ?see?, but this was all he could think of. Reaching out he wrapped a hand around the little floater and pulled it with him as he walked over to the wall. Releasing his grip, he extended a clawed finger from his other hand, and began carefully carving into the centuries old plaster with the very tip.
[HEADING=2]NAME IS RATH
WHAT YOU WANT?
WHY YOU BOTHER ME?[/HEADING]

Carving each letter was slow going given the fragile nature of the plaster, but eventually he got it done. As he wrote/carved he smiled, remembering both Sam and Roger teaching him how to 'write'. He hadn't understood the need for such a thing, but they had both been so insistent that he learn that he found he couldn't say 'No'.

 

[Generic NPC 22]

The Really Wild Wastelands | The Distant Past | BlamCo Manor
The Silver Raven
Victoria "Shiver" McGee​

[hr]

From Victoria's perspective, it quickly became apparent how it was that Cousin Thomas could become so easily ensnared by this Sable Blamco. In a manner of minutes, the Darkly Dress Duchess of the Dead's host demonstrated not only her grasp of etiquette but the intelligence to how best to utilize the rules that had been written to keep the upper crust of society from falling into a bog of degeneracy. There were countless examples of individuals who believed that their station afforded them the luxury of behaving in any manner they chose. Such beliefs were the cause of many of the past's more outrageous controversies, from a Countess bathing in the blood of virgins to maintain her youth to an orange skinned, wig wearing political degenerate utilizing a woman's genitals as a hand grips. There was a purpose to these rules, as stifling as they might seem to a casual observer.

This line of thought, however, digressed from the original. Cousin Thomas, having only been in the world for maybe a few months at this point, had not yet adapted to the isolation that came with admittance to the Undertaker's Union. The Instructors had prepared candidate Undertakers for the loneliness that they would feel, even going to far as to draw a metaphor between the position of Undertaker and the Temple's attractions known as the spinning teacups.

An Undertaker is like one of these beautifully crafted, spinning teacups. They may move around the world, dancing around and crossing the paths of other teacups but they never meet. They never interact.

An Undertaker must be prepared for this. While you may walk the world, witnessing its majesty, you will never truly become part of it, even though you are performing a great service. Those you help will shun you, believing that death follows you in your wake and they will leave you to your own devices until they need you. This is why, to those in the world, you will never be more than a teacup spinning past another, forever bound to isolation. No man is an island unless that man is an Undertaker.

Being new to the world, it made sense that Thomas would be drawn to one that accepted death as readily as the Silver Armored Swan Maiden. Even Victoria found herself enjoying the conversation as it unfolded... but it did not mean that she would abandoned the rules that she had bound herself to. For majority of the conversation, the Silk and Lace Swaddled Shovel Bearer remained politely silent and listened to the words that passed between Sable's lips.

"In Valkyrian mythology, it was not uncommon for a Chooser of the Slain to take favor upon a male suitor of demonstrable prowess. You see, in the heat of battle, all pretenses can be stripped away. What separates a desperate struggle for one's life and the admiration for a skilled individual is a matter of respect that develops it's own brand of intimacy." Lady Sable said as she passed through a set of double doors that lead into a small dining room. Pausing at the doorway, the Duchess of the Departed turned for a moment and noticed Cousin Thomas standing on the landing of a set of stairs, his eyes wide at the words that he'd just overheard. Raising a finger and pointing it towards a nearby bench, Victoria bid her cousin to wait for her before she turned to enter.

"And Ms McGee, a gesture of good faith. I will overlook the parasol, the uneven shape of something folded underneath your sleeve and that peculiar, yet uniquely beautiful necklace of yours." The Lady of the Manor commented, eliciting a raised brow of surprise and respect from her guest, who was equally as surprised by the fact that she was being served actual tea.

It should also have been noted that Victoria was rather grateful for the tea that her hostess had so graciously served as a refreshment. While tea might have been plentiful for those in BlamCo manor, true tea was rarely available on the East Coast. True tea required an environment ideal for its cultivation and skilled workers that oversaw its harvesting. Such environments were often in lands that were either now blasted by radiation or so far away that the import of such teas was prohibitively expensive. As a result, tea connoisseurs were forced to make due with the cured plant leaves of whatever non-poisonous, slightly flavorful flora they could gather.

While most may have seen etiquette as an unnecessary shackle, Victoria found it rather useful that her role as guest was to maintain silence while her host spoke. It afforded her the luxury of not only fully listening to the words of her hostess but to enjoy the exquisite aroma and flavors that only a first flush Darjeeling could provide. As she listened to an exposition regarding the history of BlamCo and its military branch, the Valkyries.

"Pardon me. As an ultimate offer, I will happily volunteer myself as an emissary to the Undertakers. I will forfeit my position as a potential Queen/Empress, but I will remain a Duchess and one of high-standing to continue the alliance. I realize that this is only a proposal that might take years to come to fruition -- but I am confident in the security that our mutual protection can provide for future generations," Victoria's hostess said in a voice filled with a sense relief that came after one had unburdened themselves of secrets, "I fear I have babbled for too long. Please, feel free to share any concerns or questions."

Setting down her teacup, Victoria straightened her posture and looked directly into the eyes of the kind Lady Sable. Having entrusted the Undertaker of the East with the secrets that surrounded BlamCo, their relationship had arrived at a point where they could speak on more familiar terms, especially in a private setting.

"Lady Blamco, it does come to me as quite a surprise that you would be so interested in an organization such as the Undertaker's Union. Of course, the revelations that you have provided me regarding your own organization tell me that my own cousin has been rather loose tongued regarding the secrets that the Undertaker's Union would prefer to keep unspoken, however, I do see some wisdom in this exchange of information. Regardless of Thomas or my opinion on the matter, it is a proposition that would have to be presented to the Grand Master as well as his council." Victoria said in a rather friendly manner that contrasted against the formal word choice. The woman paused for a moment, as she unfurled her fan to cover her mouth, though Sable could more than likely see that the woman was frowning behind the impromptu wall that she'd put up, "Forgive me, I'm still getting used to this voice synthesizer."

Taking another sip of tea, the Undertakers' Empress of Etiquette paused to gather herself and her emotions.

"I'm sure your proposal is sure to be met with acceptance, though. Despite our... other revenue stream..." Victoria said as she eyed the retainers, "the Union still follows the fundamental beliefs set forth by our founders. Treatment and burial of the dead is not just our livelihood but it allows the dead to rest assured that their mortal remains have been cared for. In hearing about your words about how the Valkyries respect the fallen, I feel that it is an idea that you truly carry... that you feel passionate about. Were you not already engaged with BlamCo, I'm sure that you would have made an excellent Undertaker," There was another pause in Victoria's words as she brought her fan up to cover the coy smile on her lips, "Though if you truly have designs for my cousin, we might see your admission to the Union sooner rather than later, Silver Raven."

There was a coughing fit that came from the other side of the double doors, as Thomas, that ill-mannered cad, had taken to eavesdropping on the conversation. Knowing her cousin, his coughing fit stemmed from both the fact that Victoria was plotting his matrimonial future as well as bestowing Sable with an unofficial nickname granted to Undertakers upon their graduation.

"Now then... since this business has been resolved, I've heard some idle gossip around New Vegas that your Lady Kristin is somewhat of a beast when it comes to combat. I, having been known to enjoy a good sparring session from time to time, had also come to this manor hoping that I would get the opportunity to meet her and I would be delighted if you could do me this one favor and introduce me to your Heiress," Victoria said with a mischievous smile, "I think it would speed up the acceptance of your proposal if I can get a sense of what the Valkyries' capabilities... perhaps I could impose you to entertain my cousin for a smile while longer before he and I depart. I fear that after our departure, he and I will be having some words regarding his behavior today."

With that said, Victoria, feeling on more equal terms with her hostess, picked up the tea pot and poured her the golden brew into her cup.

[hr]

The Really Wild Wastelands | The Present | Andale
Reunited and it feels so good...
Thomas "Shifty" McGee | Sylphee​

[hr]

The Friendly Former Neighborhood Undertaker was both amazed and amused by how quickly and efficiently both Sylphee and Arizona had been in dispatching the Self-Aggrandizing Cybernetic Shit Storm. Were Shifty not aware of the Crimson Cloaked Catastrophe's penchant for accidental mischief, it might have appeared to have been done on purpose... in an insane sort of way. If there was one thing that was made abundantly clear by the encounter, however, it was that the Red Headed Ancient One was not one to be trifled with as over two dozen of her lead projectiles tore through the metal clad flying pig's armor and the fragile man-child housed inside.

**CRUNCH!!**​

The sound of metal scrap hitting the ground was followed by the sound of a rounded bit of armored housing from the hip rolling away from the metal clad corpse, like an escaped hubcap from simpler days passed. Keeping his eyes on the round rogue armored bit, Thomas watched as the object rolled down the asphalt for a ways before loudly banging against an errant garbage can.

**GOOONG!!**​

Which was followed by the sounds of doors being opened for the first time in weeks as the townspeople of Andale (Andaliens?) emerged from their forced isolation, their eyes squinting against the light of the sun but welcoming it at the same time. While Arizona followed a man towards his garage, Thomas headed towards the pile of scrap that had terrorized the Andalites. To the Former Friendly Neighborhood Undertaker's surprise, the impact of the crash landing suffered by the Needlessly Self Righteous Auto-Sycophant had banged the armor into a sealed ball-like mass of scrap, a lucky break for the Gregarious Gravedigger as he had probably already fulfilled his quota of burials for that month. As much as he detested the thought of leaving a body to the elements, he figured that the Andalinos would find a better use for the corpse before properly disposing of it. Not that he blamed them given the message that was burnt into the diagnostic readout.

It's been fun... with a few of you at least...

"(This is probably worst epitaph I've ever read...)" The Crypt Caretaker thought to himself as he surveyed the town, noticing that Sylphee had drifted near Fionna's trio of Deathclaws... and a radio that one of the Andaloos have brought out to enhance an already celebratory day for the town. Looking back to the corpse, the Friendly Former Undertaker of the East noticed a small bag laying on the ground with the a small label that read "tea."

"(Strange that a cybernetic nitwit would carry tea)" Shifty thought to himself as the pocketed the bag and turned to witness something truly frightening.


"C'mon Missy Rachel! C'mon Missy Phoebe! C'mon Missy Monica! Clap!" The Red Rembrant exclaimed, demonstrating with a **CL-CL-CL-CLAP!**. The sight was... unnerving to say the least as the Red Menace was asking the Mutated Death Dealers to perform an act that utilized hands whose primary purpose was the rending of flesh from bone, "Missy Fianna CanCans McFirecrotch! Can you get them to clap? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please?"

Were it not for the sound of approaching boots, The Tall and Darkly Dressed Caretaker of the Dead would have rescued both Sylphee and the Deathclaws from each other.

"Fancy meeting you here. All these years and you never call...Thomas 'Shifty' McGee." Said a vaguely familiar voice from The Former Undertaker of the East's distant past. It was a strangely silky voice that he had not heard in... how long? It must have been a scant few years Thomas had heard any words pass through the lips of Sable Blamco, though, truth be told, it felt as if it had been decades.

Turning to face the source of the voice that had spoken his name, the Tall and Dapperly Dressed Former Ferryman's eyes fell upon a woman whose face was more familiar than her voice. Firsts are always the most memorable be they first kisses, first dates or first time being intimate with a partner and so it was that Sable Blamco would forever be remembered by the now more Experienced Ferryman as his opponent in his first duel to the death... even though no one had died that day... but still... it had been memorable... especially since she'd also been the first to give him a severe case of emotional whiplash. Considering the events that had transpired during their first meeting, Thomas hoped that Sable understood the reason that he was not immediately responsive to her greeting. Fortunately for both parties involved, Sylphee was on the scene.

"Daaaaddy? Who z'at?" The Catastrophe Cloaked in Crimson asked in her almost childlike manner as she walked up to stand next to the suddenly Crimson Faced Coffin Maker. Glancing down at the Sylphee, Shifty was unsurprised to see the look of curiosity that was almost permanently etched on her visage.

"This, Sylphee, is Sable Blamco... an old friend," he responded, wishing that he could warn the Silver Clad Spear Shield Maiden of the assault that was about to come. Thinking over the words he had just spoken and the uncertainty of the situation he made an addendum to his introduction, "at least I think she's a friend. It's... complicated."

Not that the Red Menace was paying any attention to what he was saying after it was mentioned that Sable was a friend. The inevitable verbal barrage had begun in true Sylphee fashion.

"Hi-hi-hi-Missy-Silver-Sable-Inflatable-Fancy-Shield-Lady-I'm-Sylphee-and-that's-Daddy-and-over-there-is-Missy-Arizona-Not-Old-One-Not-Leather-Faced-Lady-Not-Ghoul-Whore-With-The-Gun-and-Missy-Fianna-CanCans-McFirecrotch-and-her-pet-lizzies-Chandler-Ross-and-Joey.Where'd-you-come-from?How-do-you-know-daddy?Why'd-you-come-out-here?Were-you-looking-for-daddy?Do-you-like-explosions?How-do-you-keep-your-clothes-so-clean?Do-you-have-a-maid-that-cleans-your-clothes?Have-you-ever-been-swallowed-by-a-giant-toad?Do-you-like-rad-scorpions?Do-you-want-to-meet-Mister-Pinchy?Let-me-go-ge-HEY!" Sylphee managed to machine-gun her introduction and random assortment of questions before Shifty could grab her and haul her back towards him.

"Sorry about that, Sable. Sylphee gets rather excited when she meets new people," The Blue Haired Crimson Clad Manic's Faux-Father apologized, as a jolt of nerves stabbed him in the stomach a few more times for good measure. Even as random as Sylphee's queries had been, there had been a few that were right on point. Why had Sable traveled all the way out to the Capital Wastes? Did it have anything to do with the conversation that he'd accidentally overheard between her and Victoria? Was there going to have to be an awkward conversation about how the Custodian of the Living Impaired had found love with Lucy Black? Blinking for a moment, he realized that he'd been standing there and allowing an awkward silence to hang in the air.

"Well... " The flushing funerary foreman started to say before a glimmer on the woman's body caught his eyes. A polished silver ring of unmistakable purpose. An engagement ring whose design was unmistakably reflective of the owner's style. The nervousness that had been wringing the Finely Dressed Ferryman's neck subsided into relief, "As for this chance meeting out here of all places, Lord Walt does remind us that it is a small world... though I must admit that his words do little to alleviate my astonishment at seeing you after all this time. Be that as it may, Sylphee does bring up a few good questions, the first of which being what brings you to this small sliver of paradise?"

Even as he asked the question, Thomas "Shifty" McGee had a sneaking suspicion that Sable's purpose was somehow related to the other BlamCo Valkryie that had been traveling with Lucy for a short time. It was a suspicion that would be left unsaid, however, as it would have been ignorant to make assumptions after all this time.

"Actually, before talk about that, why don't I see if I can scrounge up some boiled water," Thomas "Shifty" McGee said with a smile on his face as he held up the bag labeled "tea" [footnote]It's not actually proper tea but more a melange of various plants that also include some sort of hallucinatory fungus and peyote[/footnote] from earlier, "I think it's only fitting given our past, don't you?"

[hr]

The Really Wild Wastelands | Springvale
A tub filled with sorrow...
Constance Sorrowfeld​

[hr]

Were this another world in another historical period... perhaps where dragons served as maids ... Constance Sorrowfeld might have felt intimidated by the Blamco Berserker's big bosoms or the Follower Field Medic's Flesh Pillows. Instead, the young girl's familial name never seemed more appropriate than it did as she sat in the tub with tears streaming down her face. If someone were to metaphorically open the top of the American Enclave Scout of America's skull and look inside, they would have found the obvious sorrow and remorse that she felt for her role in the death of Mister McKenna but there was something else, confusion. There was also a sense uncertainty that came when entering relatively unknown territory, like swimming in deep water for the first time.

"(Why? Why are they being nice to me?)" The Blind Back Washer absently wondered as she tried to compose herself, "(It's my fault that he's dead. So why? Why aren't they yelling at me? Why aren't they calling me names or punishing me?)"

If the someone who had metaphorically unscrewed the top off of Constance's head were wondering why the young Blind as a Bat Badge Collector was so confused, they might not have been aware that she was a member of an youth soldier training program that disguised its lessons as wholesome summer camp activities as well as the daughter of a woman who was the unofficial pictorial example for the word "****" in the New Enclave Dictionary, neither of which were particularly known for providing supportive, nurturing environments. Which was definitely an explanation for why the Blind as a Bat Bather was unsure of how to act in the face of such bold faced kindness.

"Let me tell you something that I had to learn the hard way as a doctor: You're going to make mistakes. You're going to make bad calls, and people will probably die for it. When it's your fault, you own up to it and promise yourself to do better. When it isn't... You have to move on. Because, at least in my line of work? Holding onto that guilt can make it that much harder the next time. And the next. You have to remember that you're human, and you can only do what you can do. You can strive to do more, do better, but until then, you can only do what you're capable of. I know that probably doesn't help much. But I get the feeling it was all an accident right? I don't think you meant to kill him. You can't take all the blame for that." Miss Sorenson advised softly, as she pulled her legs up to her chest.

Perhaps it was the warmth of the water or the warmth of Miss Sorenson's words but Constance felt her body unconsciously relax, not fully, but ever so slightly. She felt tired, too tired to respond, too tired to tell Miss Sorenson that even if it had been a mistake, the Amateur Shotgun Surgeon should have had the situational awareness to know that even if her shotgun's pellets had not been deflected, there was still a good likelihood that Mister McKenna would have been hit. Having replayed the situation in her mind over and over and over again, she knew why she had pulled the trigger. She was scared. She was scared that once the assassin was done with Jonathan, Constance would be next. It was because of this fear that she'd panicked and fired without thinking. These weren't the actions of a soldier of the Enclave or even a member of the American Enclave Scouts of America. These were the acts of a fool and a coward.

"She's right." Said Miss Kristin as she entered the bathing area before peeling her armor off and dropping them to the floor like petals of a flower. Surrounded by such shining examples of femininity, the young girl, her cheeks flushed, sank a little deeper into the water until her reddening cheeks were hidden before shutting off her ears... at least temporarily. She didn't need any further reminders of how inept she was as not only a soldier but as a woman as well. Blind to the world, Constance Sorrowfeld was left alone with her thoughts and her sorrows.

"Today I lost the one friend that I've made since my arrival on the East Coast. And I -- ", Miss Kristin's seemingly weakened voice cracked, her voice filled with pain and sadness "I am sorry for earlier, my treatment of you was..shameful. I snapped at the worst possible moment and instead of protecting anyone. I indulged myself."


"(No... cost her the only friend that she had. she had every right to treat me like that... or worse,)" The miserable teenage girl thought to herself. The sound someone dipping their toes into the water was followed by the sensation of the water level rising slightly as Miss Kristin entered the tub. Unable and unwilling to tolerate the touch of the woman whose friend she had killed, Constance drew her limbs in towards her, marking herself as small as possible.

"I know not what happened in that kitchen, but I get the feeling that you are no killer. Not by choice anyhow," Miss Kristin continued, her voice sounding slightly more relaxed now that she was in the tub's waters, "You are, however, a warrior. And as warriors, we will falter on the battlefield. We will be outclassed. Sometimes, we make mistakes that costs us the lives of those we were meant to protect."

The water rippled again and suddenly the grief stricken teenager felt a hand on her cheek, causing her to flinch ever so slightly as it brushed aside a tear. Despite her desire to pull away, she did not... would not... dared not. Lives were not the only cost for mistakes. Whatever punishment Miss Kristin doled out, Constance would accept... and yet... no punishment came.

"And warriors do not fight alone. No matter how far you fall, no matter how grave an error you make, I will claw my way to you and you will stand to fight another day. I -- no, WE need you," Miss Kristin continued before a hand took hold Constance's and pressed it to something soft... something soft that thrummed with life underneath, "Do you feel that? A heart pounding with fear, uncertainty and most importantly hope. We are here to raise an army and that army needs leaders from a variety of disciplines. We can't be effective if we are divided. Take that grief, take your regret and use it! Don't deny your emotions. Take your doubts and swear an oath to each of them: Make the better choice in the future. I'm sure you had your reasons, reasons only you can answer in your own time -- So all I ask now is that you begin fighting for yourself, fight for those that need you and fight for the dreams that you wish to accomplish. You aren't alone. Not anymore."

There was a brief lull in the conversation, however one sided it had been at the point, as Miss Kristin addressed Miss Sorenson, leaving Constance to ponder the words that had been spoken to her. She didn't deserve such kindness. She didn't deserve such support. She wasn't worthy of any of the words that either Miss Sorenson or Miss Kristin had spoken to her. She was going to get them killed... or worse... unless something changed. unless she changed? Unless she could make herself into a better soldier... a warrior... like Miss Kristin. She could learn from Miss Kristen... and then... if she ran into that assassin again, Constance would be ready. She had no doubt that Miss Kristin's training would be difficult... but it would be Constance's punishment... her penance... her absolution and rebirth. Hidden by the water, Constance's face became set with the resolve that she suddenly felt.

"I hope you'll still have me here, after everything." Miss Kristin's voice suddenly cut in through Constance's thoughts.

"Of... of course..." Constance managed to stammer as she lifted her head out of the water, "There's nothing that I would want more than to be at your side, Miss Kristin. I... I can't do this... any of this without you." The Teenager said as she considered her next words, "I need you... and you too, Miss Soren - Miss Jenna. If I was half the warrior you were, Miss Kristin, or half the doctor you were, Miss Jenna, I could have saved Mister McKenna. You're both women that I can admire and aspire to be... so please... both of you... please stay... please stay and help me... teach me. This isn't about my mission for the Enclave anymore. This... this isn't about my mother. This is about atoning for Mister McKenna's death and the only way I can do that is by becoming someone that he could have been proud to call his friend or his ally. So... so please. Please stay."

she stopped for a moment, her words echoing against the walls of the bathing area. Feeling self conscious about the words she'd just spoken, she submerged her face again. She'd spoken without thinking... without control... but with absolute passion. She'd never done that before... and despite the tinge of embarrassment that she felt... she wondered why she'd never done that before.

[hr]

The Really Wild Wastelands | Springvale
Nerve Analysis Defensive Systems?
Enclave Intelligence Office #411 | Eyebot SN# 5376864355498463457870156-3​

[hr]

A slight historical note regarding the Enclave Eyebots: When these machines were originally conceptualized and eventually mass produced, they had one official purpose and one unofficial purpose. Officially, they were developed in order to spread Enclave propaganda and, as a result, assist returning civilization to the Capital Wastes. The unofficial purpose was born of the fact that many denizens of the Wastes found the use of the Enclave Eyebots as practice targets to be a rather fun past time. As a result of this, the Enclave Intelligence Section found it a rather useful tool to discern the technology level in certain regions that surrounded the former District of Columbia.

Subsequent models of the Eyebot had been developed over the years to include various weapons (which had the tendency of draining the on board power plant) or heavier armor (which made it an even slower moving target) or other bits that might assist in the unit being more resilient on the field. In the case of Eyebot SN# 5376864355498463457870156-3, it was granted a defensive version of V.A.T.S. (otherwise known as N.A.D.S. - Nerve Analysis Defensive System) as well as a pair of utility claws that could manipulate objects or use a limited number of hand held weapons (which Eyebot Brian preferred not to use since it often gave their users a false sense of invincibility which caused poor judgement) as well as the most advanced Artificial Intelligence ever conceived by the Enclave (at the time).

The Eyebot's face plate flashed red as it entered its N.A.D.S. state, indicating that it was scanning Malkos' nervous and muscular system for changes that would indicate an offensive action, not that Malkos had any reference for why the Eyebot's face plate would turn red other than what was done next. The Spherical Robot appeared to growl as it read the words etched into the wall by the "intelligent" Death Claw.

"

If you're going to traipse around the Wastes claiming that you're intelligent, the least you could do is learn proper grammar,

" The Eyebot grumbled as it hovered over to the wall and started making a few edits to Malkos' introduction.

[HEADING=2][color]MYNAME IS RATH
WHAT DO YOU WANT?
WHY ARE YOU BOTHERING ME?[/color][/HEADING]

"

This is what happens when you have a poor grasp of grammar.  Humans will start questioning how truly intelligent you are, like I am doing right now, and then they will think maybe this 'Pseudo-Intelligent' Death Claw should be put down because it's obviously one intelligence point away from being a drooling vegetable that will attempt to kill us at the slightest provocation.  Then you will be forced to eviscerate them, rending them limb from limb, an act that I am not opposed to, which will then bring a lot of unneeded and unwanted attention to your existence which will bring more humans which will cause more needless and mindless slaughter of humans... which on second thought doesn't sound like a half bad idea... so maybe I should stop attempting to teach you grammar...

" Eyebot Brian rambled for a moment before pausing, as if consulting with some unseen person, "

Also, my Commanding Officer, Enclave Intelligence Officer #411, says that she'd like you to work for the Enclave and in return she'll keep them from attempting to capture you and vivisect you... which doesn't seem that horrible a fate, if you ask me.  I've seen footage of a vivisection and after the patient's screaming subsided, the procedure was completed without a issue.

"

 

[Athol]

Rath was annoyed enough that the little floating ball was pestering him, but now it was also questioning his intelligence; and for the briefest of moments, his control slipped. When the scientists had done whatever it was they had done to make him smarter, and hopefully more controllable, they?d used that intelligence as a ?cap? to contain his more aggressive nature and instincts. While that did work most of the time, he had found it took conscious effort to keep it in check, especially if he was irritated.

For a moment instinct over-rode his intellect, and a large scaled and clawed hand grabbed the Eyebot; powerful muscles flexed and the hand began to squeeze, before his mind reasserted control.

No?that may just complicate things at this point.

Releasing the Eyebot with nothing more than a few cosmetic dents, he let out an annoyed huff and began carving another response.

[HEADING=2]MY GRAMMAR IS FINE, IT JUST TAKES TOO MUCH EFFORT TO WRITE PROPERLY WITH THESE HANDS.[/HEADING] The single sentence took nearly twice as long to ?write? as the first bit; and once he was finished, he tapped his initial text, before starting a new line.
[HEADING=2]KNOW ENCLAVE
RADIERS WITH BETTER GUNS
KILLED ENCLAVE ARMOR BEFORE
WILL DEFEND SELF[/HEADING]

 

[Texas Joker 52]

[ dr. sorenson ]

The Wild Wastelands | Springvale | Springvale School "Showers"
"The best-laid plans of mousy Doctors and dead men."​

[hr]

When she finished her little speech, Jenna couldn't help but immediately feel like it was utterly inadequate. She could only speak from her own experience, and while she knew at the back of her mind that it was absolutely applicable to this, she still wondered what good her words would do. It wasn't long after that she was surprised to hear Kristin's voice, or more specifically, what she had said.

"She's right."

Jenna's head jerked up to see Kristin step out from around the doorway, and immediately sank further down in the water with a soft squeak as she complemented Jenna herself. As she asked why she hid her 'beautiful face', the Followers Doctor thought a little bitterly that that was exactly why. She was a doctor, and she needed people to take her seriously for her scientific and medical knowledge, not for her pretty face, or larger-than-average breasts.

But, she listened as Kristin gave Constance her own words of support and encouragement, slowly lifting her head again to listen. The Blamco Heiress certainly didn't disappoint when it came to inspiration, which was no surprise to Jenna. The Blamco Family was well-known for fostering strong-willed family members that could inspire even the most downtrodden. Still, it was impressive.

"I hope you'll still have me here, after everything."

After all of that, Jenna turned to Constance and immediately got the impression that she felt rather overwhelmed by all of this given the expression on her face. But a moment passed and it changed to a look of grim determination.

"Of... of course... There's nothing that I would want more than to be at your side, Miss Kristin. I... I can't do this... any of this without you. I need you... and you too, Miss Soren - Miss Jenna. If I was half the warrior you were, Miss Kristin, or half the doctor you were, Miss Jenna, I could have saved Mister McKenna. You're both women that I can admire and aspire to be... so please... both of you... please stay... please stay and help me... teach me. This isn't about my mission for the Enclave anymore. This... this isn't about my mother. This is about atoning for Mister McKenna's death and the only way I can do that is by becoming someone that he could have been proud to call his friend or his ally. So... so please. Please stay."

She offered a small smile and nodded.

"I'll stay and do what I can. And who knows? Maybe I'll even manage to accomplish what I came to D.C. to do in the process." she said with a note of forced optimism in her tone before she added, "Though, I'd rather you'd call me Doctor, if you use honorifics at all. I didn't earn that title for nothing after all, and it was hard work."

[hr]

Arizona
The Wild Wastelands | The Dunwich Job | Andale
"Thomas, you dog."​

[hr]

The Ghoulish Freelancer took only a few minutes to look over the internals of her new, albeit broken-down and partially rusted motorcycle to figure out what parts it needed. But she did let out a low whistle as she realized that despite the missing parts on top of two-hundred-plus years without regular servicing, it was actually in much better shape than she had initially inspected.

As she stood up, pushing against the fuel tank to help her get to her feet, she inadvertently brushed aside some of the rust and something caught her eye about the paint job. A few moments of hard rubbing with a nearby rag revealed the painting of a skull wearing a combat helmet with a single word written on it. "WAR".

She snorted softly in amusement.

"One of the Four Bikers of the Apocalypse, huh? I can get behind War, yea." she murmured to herself with a smile before she turned and strode out of the garage with the thought of rejoining her traveling band of freaks.

She was immediately greeted with the sight of Sylphee trying to coax the three 'tamed' Deathclaws to clap along to a god-awful song on a radio that she had somehow gotten a hold of, which was odd enough. But looking past them, she spotted a woman speaking to Shifty. And the way they were talking gave her the impression that they knew each other. Her lone eye squinted to get a better look from where she stood.

The woman was pretty, she had to admit that. She was clad in strange silver armor atop some sort of blue jumpsuit or uniform, and even odder was the fact she was carrying a metal shield and a spear. She didn't carry herself like a tribal though, and in fact she made Arizona think of that woman back in Megaton, the first person she decided to nickname 'Tits McHugeKnockers' before Fiona had come around and earned the nickname instead.

She really hoped she wasn't there to spout more bullshit about cheese.

It didn't take long for Sylphee to take notice of the new addition, and by that point Arizona started to make her way to the trio.

"--sorry about that, Sable. Sylphee gets rather excited when she meets new people. Well..."

She only managed to catch a snippet of what Shifty said when she finally joined them, Lester hanging at her front by his rifle strap, arms crossed over her chest. And her lone eye leveling a gaze at this Sable before glancing over at Thomas.

She immediately noticed he looked uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. She could tell that he was trying not to show it, and she wondered if maybe she should keep Lester more at the ready, until he seemed to catch something at the corner of his eye and suddenly relaxed. And that was enough for her eye to narrow a little, and her eyebrow to arch upward.

"As for this chance meeting out here of all places, Lord Walt does remind us that it is a small world... though I must admit that his words do little to alleviate my astonishment at seeing you after all this time. Be that as it may, Sylphee does bring up a few good questions, the first of which being what brings you to this small sliver of paradise?"

Arizona couldn't help but snort, but Shifty merely continued and hefted a small bag.

"Actually, before talk about that, why don't I see if I can scrounge up some boiled water, I think it's only fitting given our past, don't you?"

"So long as you introduce me to your... Friend, eh Shifty? Can't help but notice that almost all the 'old friends' of yours that we've met up with have been pretty women." she said with a definite edge to her smirk, "And what was it you told me awhile ago? About not having much luck with chicks? I'm beginning to think this is proving you wrong."

Turning to their latest addition, the Ghoul gave her a curt nod.

"I'm Arizona. Who're you?" she asked flatly.

 

[Rip Van Rabbit]

The Wild Wasteland | Distant Past | New Vegas | BlamCo Manor
"Demonstrations & Limitations"
- Sable 'Swan Maiden' Blamco -
---​

Sipping their tea in tranquil silence, the Swan Maiden measured the weight of Victoria's words. Meanwhile, the Undertaker's fascination with Sable's hand-picked tea was more than a little amusing. Although the atmosphere had taken a more accommodating role, Sable couldn't quite relax, especially since this proposal would have ramifications for years to come, irrespective of success or failure.

"Lady Blamco, it does come to me as quite a surprise that you would be so interested in an organization such as the Undertaker's Union. Of course, the revelations that you have provided me regarding your own organization tell me that my own cousin has been rather loose tongued regarding the secrets that the Undertaker's Union would prefer to keep unspoken, however, I do see some wisdom in this exchange of information. Regardless of Thomas or my opinion on the matter, it is a proposition that would have to be presented to the Grand Master as well as his council." Victoria shifted towards a more friendly tone. Pausing for a moment, her trademark fan was unfurled to cover her mouth. A puzzling furrowing of the brow suggested discomfort, collecting herself, "Forgive me, I'm still getting used to this voice synthesizer."

"It's quite alright, Ms Mcgee.", Setting down her teacup, Sable gave Victoria a warm smile of acceptance. "Please, call me Sable."

"The Union still follows the fundamental beliefs set forth by our founders. Treatment and burial of the dead is not just our livelihood but it allows the dead to rest assured that their mortal remains have been cared for. In hearing about your words about how the Valkyries respect the fallen, I feel that it is an idea that you truly carry... that you feel passionate about. Were you not already engaged with BlamCo, I'm sure that you would have made an excellent Undertaker," There was another pause in Victoria's words as she brought her fan up to cover the coy smile on her lips, "Though if you truly have designs for my cousin, we might see your admission to the Union sooner rather than later, Silver Raven."

Straightening her posture, the Swan Maiden's head was cocked to the side in interest. Reflecting upon Victoria's words, her eyes were averted, lost in thought as an errant strand of strawberry blonde hair covered an eye. Her bangs were unevenly cut, minor details to accentuate her high cheekbones. Gracefully, her hair was swept aside to welcome those dull-green eyes of hers -- now teeming with life whenever her curiosity was piqued.

"Those are words of high praise, coming from an esteemed Undertaker. Truly, I am humbled.", And she was. "It is not often that one will discover another spirit that deals with death. It is quite another to form a bond over our preservation of the fallen form and rituals required to ensure a proper departure. This overlapping of ideology -- this is precisely why my mind raced to securing an alliance. It is no secret that BlamCo's growth in New Vegas has been met with significant resistance, simply put, as an organisation we have no shortage of business partners and rivals, although a business has the benefit of being malleable. Speaking for the Valkyries, our future is not so certain and we could do with some allies in this world."

Glancing at Victoria, then glancing at the coughing at the door. Sable sighed in pity, not at the breach of privacy, but at Thomas's sheer audacity to listen in on a conversation guarded by 40% of the BlamCo Maids in combat gear. No doubt, 50% sought to securing the exits and the remaining 10% sought to the administration and polite escort of all non-vital personnel from the BlamCo Estate.

"Now then... since this business has been resolved, I've heard some idle gossip around New Vegas that your Lady Kristin is somewhat of a beast when it comes to combat. I, having been known to enjoy a good sparring session from time to time, had also come to this manor hoping that I would get the opportunity to meet her and I would be delighted if you could do me this one favor and introduce me to your Heiress," Victoria said with a mischievous smile, "I think it would speed up the acceptance of your proposal if I can get a sense of the Valkyries' capabilities... perhaps I could impose you to entertain my cousin for a smile while longer before he and I depart. I fear that after our departure, he and I will be having some words regarding his behavior today."

Raising herself from her seat, Sable walked over to the double doors and knocked twice. A mechanical click could be heard and the doors were opened. "That is a request I will gladly grant. If it is the Valkyrian prowess that you seek, then Kristin Blamco is the ideal representative."

After exiting the dining room, the pair made their way through the halls flanked by the previously-frilly-dressed maids now equipped with light riot armor, non-lethal batons alongside holstered 10mm handguns. Sable was impressed at the response time. Picking Rose out from the royal guard, the smaller woman hurried over.

"Why is Kristin not present with the royal guard?", Sable inquired.

"Lady Kristin is currently finishing up her post-combat rituals after today's final demonstration. She's, well, not verbally responding."

"Right. Inform Keira that the security call is over. No doubt she's livid when she's involuntarily stuck in the lab. One more thing, Victoria & Thomas McGee are now honored guests to the BlamCo Estate - Our doors will be open to them and their associates from this day forward. Please prepare a sizable gift package of our finest tea for the Lady.", Sable spared a glance and nodded at Victoria, before returning to Rose with a pinched nose. "And please stop detaining Thomas McGee..."

The scene was somewhat comical, three disgruntled maids stepped aside from a firmly-seated Thomas McGee, seemingly forced to enjoy some tea. Violent hospitality? Truly, Sable's etiquette training had clashed with Kristin's combat training in a unique manner.

After allowing Rose to spread the word about returning to their duties, she was instructed to escort Victoria to Kristin and inform the Valkyrie about the immediate situation. Sable proceeded to free Thomas from the clutches of his frilly captors and whisper in his ear, [small]"We've been graced with time. And since you seem so easily distracted. Why don't I keep your attention with a little a meal in my room? I am quite the cook, I assure you. I'll even wear an apron. Just an apron."[/small]

~~~~Switching to Kristin BlamCo's perspective~~~~​

BlamCo's custom arena had undergone some major reinforcements since its original construction. Nevertheless, in the center of the ring stood a towering form. Outfitted in the 3rd revision to the Valkyrie's Silver heavy armor, a motion was made to remove her ceremonial red cloak, now shredded after her recent fight. The winged helmet was resting near the broken corpse of a Yao guai. The massive Power Claymore was being cleaned and checked for any damage.

Remnants of a large crowd surrounding the arena behind Kristin were leaving. The remaining batch of onlookers in military fatigues turned out to be NCR trainees -- at best, the Valkyries were tolerated by the NCR in exchange for outsourcing of their training regimens to new recruits. Bureaucratic to the very end, the NCR would cut the corners on a circle if they could.

Normally, a fully-grown Yao Guai would require a 3-man team in close-quarters. Less, if you had the advantage of distance and a high-powered rifle. Today, a small military company bore witness to a successful melee takedown of one of the Wasteland's most brutal beasts -- with commentary.

"Lady Kristin?", Rose called out to Kristin from outside the arena. "Honored guest by permission of Lady Sable. I would like to formally introduce: Undertaker Victoria McGee."

Rising to the entrance of a Darkly-Dressed Debutante, Kristin ran an armored hand through her silver hair, stopping to note that the crowd was absent upon Victoria's entrance. Watching the woman side-step the Yao guai corpse with little care. Kristin assumed a casual stance by resting her forearm on the pommel of her planted sword, extending her other hand in a rather jovial fashion.

"Kristin Blamco, Battle-Maiden among the Valkyries. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

[hr]

The Wild Wasteland | Present Day | Springvale Elementary School
"Splash Splash"
- Kristin 'Valkyrie' Blamco -
---​

"Of... of course..." Constance managed to stammer as she lifted her head out of the water, "There's nothing that I would want more than to be at your side, Miss Kristin. I... I can't do this... any of this without you." The Teenager said as she considered her next words, "I need you... and you too, Miss Soren - Miss Jenna. If I was half the warrior you were, Miss Kristin, or half the doctor you were, Miss Jenna, I could have saved Mister McKenna. You're both women that I can admire and aspire to be... so please... both of you... please stay... please stay and help me... teach me. This isn't about my mission for the Enclave anymore. This... this isn't about my mother. This is about atoning for Mister McKenna's death and the only way I can do that is by becoming someone that he could have been proud to call his friend or his ally. So... so please. Please stay."

Kristin Blamco gave Constance a silent half-smile along with a nod of approval.

"Then I will gladly stay.", Kristin paused, "Then again, when I was first shown a group of identical untrained soldiers presumably being sent to a future battle, well, there's no way I could have walked away with their lives on my shoulders, knowing I could have done something to prepare them."

The Valkyrie could respect her reasoning, the team's Communication Cat highlighted her ability to readily fight for others, meanwhile the Valkyrie was here of her own volition. Perhaps that was the flaw that lead to her loneliness? The Valkyrie had a history of leading the charge yet seldom did she stop to appreciate the support that kept her alive.
Since when had she become so introspective? Heh, Constance might be young, but there was untapped potential in that girl. She could feel it, especially if Constance could put Kristin on cooldown.

"I'll stay and do what I can. And who knows? Maybe I'll even manage to accomplish what I came to D.C. to do in the process." she said rather optimistically, "Though, I'd rather you'd call me Doctor, if you use honorifics at all. I didn't earn that title for nothing after all, and it was hard work."

"We have Physical Conditioning, Cooking & Close-Quarters-Combat skills from me. Medical Training, Morale & Diplomacy skills from Doctor Sorenson. Communication, Survival and Ranged Combat skills from Constance.", Kristin thought out loud, hand to chin. "Ignoring our secondary skills, this is a good foundation of knowledge for the Sylphy's. And a welcome balance as we form the core team."

Submerging her head below water, she remained that way until her heart pounded. After emerging with a gasp, a little bit of rummaging around with her toiletries bag and Kristin produced a bottle of treatment for her hair, set aside for the ladies to use. A bit of brushing, scrunching and scrubbing with a facecloth. Kristin did what she could to maintain soft hair and a clean complexion -- she literally had to keep up appearances, so it was a force of habit that BlamCo enforced her to minimize any 'unsightly' lazy days.

"Doctor Sorenson..." Kristin absentmindedly queried while the ladies washed up. Her own eyes were fixed on an errant gold strand of hair. Brighter than usual. "Many years back, my sisters and I were hunting Centaurs. I found myself growing weary and physically ill after the first few takedowns. Eventually, I collapsed into an open corpse and I was found awhile later. I suffered an extreme and steady exposure to radiation -- which makes me particularly sensitive to it to this day."

She tugged at a particularly long lock of hair to demonstrate the unnaturally gold color.

"Luckily, I didn't grow a third arm.", Kristin muttered, before a conflicting curiosity interrupted her rambling. "But I did lose my natural strawberry blonde. Now, my hair defaults to silver. Do you, perhaps, have anything to treat radiation poisoning? Speaking of luck, what brings a Follower all the way here?"

[hr]

The Wild Wasteland | Present Day | Entering Andale
"Soap Opera"
- Sable 'Swan Maiden' Blamco -
---​

Thomas 'Shifty' McGee was the first man that she fell in love with. While Sable had a colorful history of lovers and romantic entanglements, her heart would always return to a very select few. Having only officially gotten engaged this week, she scolded herself for having to fight off some of her older impulses. A lot had changed since her younger days -- natural development had been kind enough to solidify her divisive status as an 'ethereal beauty', a description she had only grown fond of once her Delivery Girl had started using it. Certainly, her default disposition and aloof attitude had done everything to solidify that unnerving or enrapturing quality.

"This, Sylphee, is Sable Blamco... an old friend," Thomas explained to the young lady in an oddly fatherly fashion. "At least I think she's a friend. It's...complicated."

While Sable was not the type to frown or bare her teeth, that very dissonant beauty she supposedly embodied had grown more dissonant. There was a cold stare being directed towards her lover from the past. The only heat emanating from Sable was the flaring power spear that she clutched.

An aural barrage interrupted any snappy quip that Sable had prepared, for the young lady named Sylphy had assaulted her senses with a series of questions at a rate she thought impossible. One word stood out to her though: 'Daddy'.
Noting the ridiculous blue hair and snapping back to Thomas' own 'style' of hair. The picture was becoming clearer.

"As for this chance meeting out here of all places, Lord Walt does remind us that it is a small world... though I must admit that his words do little to alleviate my astonishment at seeing you after all this time. Be that as it may, Sylphee does bring up a few good questions, the first of which being what brings you to this small sliver of paradise?"

In those brief moments where Sable tried to discern why Thomas had taken on a dismissive tone, they were interrupted by an imposing woman with a raspy voice and an air of dominance. A quick nod was sent her way before she was addressed.

"Actually, before talk about that, why don't I see if I can scrounge up some boiled water," Thomas 'Shifty' McGee said with a forced smile on his face as he held up a rudimentary bag hastily labeled 'tea', "I think it's only fitting given our past, don't you?"

"I'm Arizona. Who're you?" she asked flatly.

"Sable Blamco. Swan Maiden among the Valkyries of the West. Duchess to the BlamCo Organization.", Sable curtsied as she chose address the leader of the group, extinguishing the blue-heated spear and eyeing Thomas. "Friend to Thomas McGee. We met in New Vegas many years ago, I actually have business with the Undertakers, I just didn't expect to find this particular one."

The reply was more mechanical than Sable preferred. Old flame or not, she distinctly remembered that they parted on good terms. Bittersweet at the time, but nothing to evoke such distance that not even some genuine excitement could be granted. Hell, she was excited to see a familiar face mere moments ago.

"I'm just passing through!", Sable stated hurriedly to Thomas, she paused to glance at Arizona and Sylphy. "Unless any of you could do with a meal or minor medical attention? You see, I'm -- !?"

Rifling through her bag, a small collection of poorly-drawn maps littered the ground. Collecting them by the handful, she attempted to hurriedly put them back in order. Squinting at the names the former raider slaves had given her. "I'm trying to find my way to a Moogle Town? Uh, Meggle Town?"

Sable pinched her nose and sighed, just realizing how spoiled she was when the entirety of BlamCo's resources were at her disposal. Out here? She was alone for now, in undocumented territory that hadn't been visited by Blamco blood for two centuries.

"So how about it? Some hospitality for some information. You lot look like you've been through quite the ordeal.", Sable eyed Thomas once more, a faint smirk broke her icy facade. "Especially you. Besides, you can tell me all about your daughter. She's quite the young lady, somehow she went unmentioned a few years ago."

Your first great love is often over-romanticized. Illusion or not, Sable was quite fond of the illusion. It had been a major developmental point in her romantic life. The reality, however, was spilling tea on the pretty portraits that adorned her corridor of memories.

 

[Fiona Callahan]

From Fiona's point of view, this place was kinda crazy, but..that wouldn't stop her from doing what she did best, offering her skills to Andale, she used her medical talents to help anyone in the town who was hurt or wounded, from events, while her deathclaws revealed that they may as well be over-sized monstrous puppies, they were letting kids play with them, it was honestly one of the wierdest and cutest things possible, why was this even happening? Well, she had used her ability to communicate with deathclaws to convince them to give the kids rides, amongst other things, one of the kids was acting like he was a knight and the deathclaw was his mighty steed, which probably was about the funniest and most adorable thing ever.

As for Fiona, as was stated, she's putting her Vault-born and learned doctor skills to excellent use in Andale, since right now there seems to be nothing else to do.

 

[Generic NPC 22]

The Really Wild Wastelands | The Distant Past | BlamCo Manor
Swordswoman to Swordswoman
Victoria "Shiver" McGee​

[hr]

As their meeting drew to a close, the two women rose from their seats in unison and the doors leading into the room were opened by the guards stationed at each one. Through one of the doors Victoria spotted her nosey cousin, who had not only had the nerve to attempt to listen in on the conversation between Victoria and Sable but had been caught by the manor's guards in the process. For a person who prided herself on her ability to stay hidden, Shifty's capture an embarrassment in Victoria's eyes.

The Duchess of the Dearly Departed's ire, while intense, was short lived. She, more than her own cousin, understood that the life of an Undertaker was critically lacking in companionship, especially in the Eastern regions of the Americas where the Union's influence was significantly less. While this would more than likely be the last time Sable and Shifty shared the same space together, the Darkly Dressed Dame of the Dead would not begrudge them a few more hours together, especially if he was to replace her as the Undertaker of the East Coast. Glancing over at her cousin as he was being watched by a trio of guard, who had the courtesy to offer him some tea as Thomas awaited his fate, gave him a knowing wink and the briefest of smiles, hoping that he would get the hint to enjoy his time with Sable.

Looking back at her hostess, Victoria looked expectantly for an answer to her request. She did not expect anything other than an affirmative answer as a mutual demonstration of martial prowess would benefit both the Undertaker's Union and BlamCo in understanding what the other was bringing to the table and how an alliance would benefit both parties.

"That is a request I will gladly grant. If it is the Valkyrian prowess that you seek, then Kristin Blamco is the ideal representative." The Silver Raven proclaimed as she strolled out of the small meeting room, leading Victoria into the corridor where Thomas was being held presumably against his will. Upon seeing the troupe of maids that had captured the Newly Initiated Undertaker, the Lace and Silk Swaddled Assassin arched an eyebrow at how quickly these Royal Guards had changed into more suitable combat attire.

One of the guards, a delightfully demure looking and bespectacled young woman, rushed over to the side of the Lady of the Manor's side, beckoned forth by her mistress' gesture. As Victoria expected of anyone capable of changing into combat gear in so little time, the guardswoman's stand and demeanor reflected both her ability and her desire to fulfill her mistress' orders at the drop of a hat.

"Why is Kristin not present with the royal guard?" The Silver Swan Maiden asked.

"Lady Kristin is currently finishing up her post-combat rituals after today's final demonstration. She's, well, not verbally responding." Came the guard's response to her mistress' inquiry, nearly confirming some of the more interesting tidbits of the idle gossip that Victoria overheard regarding BlamCo's heiress' mental state.

"Right. Inform Keira that the security call is over. No doubt she's livid when she's involuntarily stuck in the lab. One more thing, Victoria & Thomas McGee are now honored guests to the BlamCo Estate - Our doors will be open to them and their associates from this day forward. Please prepare a sizable gift package of our finest tea for the Lady." Came the orders from word on high, "And please stop detaining Thomas McGee..."

"My honored hostess is too kind," The Darkly Dressed Duchess of Death interjected with a low curtsy, "The hospitality and courtesy that you have demonstrated this day are truly a beacon shining brightly in these most uncivilized of days." The woman paused, her eyes still directed towards the ground where Sable stood before continuing with a more serious tone, "As your familial secrets are safe with me, I am sure that you will be mindful of who you reveal mine to. As the adage goes, 'A loose tongue and an open mouth attracts many bloatflies.'"

Standing up to face her hostess, Victoria McGee smiled brightly, knowing that Sable Blamco was intelligent enough to know a threat when she heard one, especially for someone who cared for the mortal remains of the recently departed who was aware of the type of creatures that these remains attracted. As she turned to follow her guide, the Mischievous Mademoiselle of Mortality glanced back at her hostess, speaking as she departed.

"I also trust that I can leave my cousin in your more than capable hands, especially if your more... intimate partnership is to bear fruit." Victoria said, her smiling turning into a smirk as she passed through the door, "My uncle has been wanting a grandchild for some time."

Life surrounding the manor quickly returned to a more tranquil state as the alert was cancelled and the estate's guards resumed their more mundane, though not necessarily less important, tasks. When it came to ensuring the most efficient operation with an estate setting, well trained and experienced staff were invaluable. In the case of BlamCo Manor, a staff that could manage both hospitality and security functions was quite an accomplishment.

Walking in silence, it did not take Victoria and her guide very long to cover the distance between the manor house and the arena, where Kristin Blamco had been demonstrating methods for dealing with the ever vexatious Yao Guai to an assemblage of NCR field personnel. Even with judicious use of the stealth module built into her parasol, the Darkly Dressed Debutante found herself dealing with the sharp nosed creatures on an almost daily basis. As she waited for her arrival to be announced, the Fashion Minded Ferrywoman adjusted her clothing and accessories, ensuring that no stitch, no fold, no button was out of place.

"Lady Kristin?" The Guardswoman called out to BlamCo's Heiress, "Honored guest by permission of Lady Sable. I would like to formally introduce: Undertaker Victoria McGee."

The doors to the arena separated and allowed Victoria McGee entrance to what she had been considering the Valkyrie's temple. While it was simplistic in its designs, the Ever Observant Undertaker noted a multitude of smaller gates that lined the perimeter of the arena, allowing for the timed release of differing number of enemies in various combinations onto the grounds. The walls that surrounded the battle area appeared to durable enough to withstand both bullet impacts as well as escape attempts while not . At the heart of it all stood the Valkyrie's Queen, Kristin Blamco.

As she had with Sable Blamco. Victoria curtsied low to the ground, keeping her eyes averted from the manor's matriarch, waiting, as was customary, for Kristin to welcome her guest to BlamCo Manor which would then be followed by a responding curtsy, though not as low to the ground as Victoria's. After this preliminary introduction, the two would retire to a shaded area where refreshments would be served and the two would would share a light conversation consisting of unimportant topics before the subject of Victoria's visit would be...

"Kristin Blamco, Battle-Maiden among the Valkyries. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"(This... this is all too sudden.)" The Etiquette Minded Undertaker thought to herself as she looked up wide eyed horror at hand that was thrust at her by the BlamCo Queen Supreme as alarms went off in her head, "(Improper! Improper!)" Having committed to the role of a respectful and protocol minded guest, Victoria found it difficult to switch gears to quickly.

"We... well met...My Lady Blamco... I... well..." The Stammering Shovel Maiden stuttered for a moment before rising and accepting the proffered hand, her mind finally making the shift to a more casual attitude, "I apologize, Battle-Maiden Blamco, it is not often that a caretaker of the departed, such as myself, is granted an audience with one who has kept my local brethren and I so busy with our our work. We of the Undertaker's Union often meet those who are on the losing end of a skirmish, not one who has come out on the winning side as often as you have. Your actions have been so far reaching that my fellow Undertakers have had to resort to a formerly abandoned practice known as a sky funeral." The Darkly Dressed Duchess of the Departed paused for a moment, taking a moment to determine if she had gone overboard with the flattery, "If I may be frank, Miss Blamco. Your reputation as a brutal, efficient and brilliant warrior has spread far and wide throughout the region has piqued my curiosity, especially when I heard that you are a fellow swordswoman."

As she finished her sentence, she drew the short blade that was hidden in the handle of her parasol with her right hand, the sound of the metal being pulled from its scabbard echoed in the nearly empty arena. Anyone who was observing the meeting between the two warriors might have been amused at the fact that Victoria had dared to call her weapon a sword, especially when comparing difference in sizes between the Silk and Lace Swaddled Swordswoman's and the Princess of Parmesan's blades. However, anyone with a semblance of knowledge with bladed weapons would have known that the two weapons required very different techniques to be effective.

"As you will undoubtedly hear in the near future, a proposal has been brought forth with the purpose of forging an alliance between BlamCo and the Undertaker's Union. If this proposal is accepted by both parties, you and I shall become sisters on the battlefield." The woman paused for a moment to allow her words to sink into Kristin Blamco's head. While her words would have been like honey to some, it would have been apparent to anyone that there existed a tone of disappointment and hunger in Victoria McGee's synthesized soliloque, "This would also mean that you and I would never again be presented with the opportunity to spar to the fullest of our abilities for fear of jeopardizing such an alliance. To answer your question, and thank you for the patience you have shown in listening to me, the opportunity to challenge you to a duel is what has brought me here."

[hr]

The Really Wild Wastelands | The Distant Past | BlamCo Manor
Under Construction...
Thomas "Shifty" McGee​

[hr]

Spoiler: Looking for Inspiration

[hr]

The Really Wild Wastelands | The Present | Andale
Of Former Love and Former Glory
Thomas "Shifty" McGee | Sylphee​

[hr]

Having walked the wastes for a time, Thomas "Shifty" McGee considered himself a rather experienced survivalist. He could scavenge for food when he was hungry, spark a fire when he was cold and find shelter when there was lightning on the horizon. The Friendly Former Ferryman could even identify which creatures were likely to attack a traveler on sight... which was relatively easy since the vast majority of wildlife that lived in the wastelands were extremely hostile to humans with very VERY few exceptions. None of this earned knowledge or experience was necessary when it came to knowing when one had said something that angered a woman. Despite all the "wisemens'" words to the contrary, all one needed to do was simply look at the way a woman spoke and the manner in which she acted. In the case of Sable Blamco, it was very clear that something that Shifty had said had touched off a small conflagration in the Silver Swan Maiden's chest.

Having sent Sylphee off to fetch a kettle of water, the Ferryman with Foot in Mouth attempted to spark a small camp fire despite finding himself intensely observint the interaction between Arizona and Sable, looking for a hint as to why Thomas' former flame had the look of someone that had bitten into a Dandy Boy Apple only to find out that it was actually a brahmin road apple.

"Sable Blamco. Swan Maiden among the Valkyries of the West. Duchess to the BlamCo Organization." Sable responded to Arizona's question. Despite the fact that she talking to the group's leader, the Swan Maiden's eyes did not appear to be focused on the Red Haired Ghoul but rather they were firmly affixed to Thomas himself,. "Friend to Thomas McGee. We met in New Vegas many years ago, I actually have business with the Undertakers, I just didn't expect to find this particular one."

If either Arizona or Sable noticed the fact that Thomas had slapped his own forehead with the palm of his hand, having realized the reason as to why the Blamco Ballerina had been acting so strangely, neither of them showed any sign. Resuming his ill fated attempt to start the campfire, the Sable's Friendly Former Flame was left to his thoughts.

"(Considering the fact that's she's engaged to be married, you'd think that this would be awkward for her as well,)" The Usually Talkative Tall and Dark Grave Digger thought to himself as he continued plying the magnesium rod with his combat knife, "(I mean she's got... whomever he is... and I've got Lucy... so of course it's got to be awkward for former lovers to meet in the middle of nowhere! Of course, it probably doesn't help that Sylphee keeps calling me 'Daddy' ... and what does she mean that she I never wrote? I had Victoria use her contacts in the Courier's Guild to...)"

*SPARK!*

"There you go, Daddy!" Sylphee's familiar chipper by default voice exclaimed as she pulled a lighter from her seemingly bottomless bag-o-treasure and pulled out a lighter, igniting the pile of kindling that Thomas had gathered.

"Uhhh... thanks, Sylphee." The Red Menace's Parental Figure muttered as he started feeding the small flame and hanging the small kettle over the growing flames, "Sylphee... listen to me... do you think that you could stop calling me 'Daddy?' It's causing a lot of confusion..."

"Okay, Daddy!" Came the Crimson Catastrophe's response, ignorant of anything that her Pseudo Paternal Figure stated.

Looking up to address the Blue Haired Berserker once again, Shifty noticed that Sylphee appeared to be lookng at Sable rather intently. From the expression on the Dual Persona'd Psycho's face, the soon to be Red Faced Ferryman could tell that the wheels were turning deep within Sylphee's brain... a sure sign that something was about to go terribly terribly wrong.

"So how about it? Some hospitality for some information. You lot look like you've been through quite the ordeal." Came Sable's luxuriously silky voice from where she stood with Arizona, her eyes still focused solely on her Former Ferryman and Flame "Especially you. Besides, you can tell me all about your daughter. She's quite the young lady, somehow she went unmentioned a few years ago."

"You know who Missy-Silver-Sable-Inflatable-Fancy-Shield-Lady reminds me of? Big Sissy Lucy Caboosy! She looks at you the same way, she smiles at you all nice like and she talks to you kinda the same way. Ohohoh! Do you and Missy-Silver-Sable-Inflatable-Fancy-Shield-Lady kiss the same way you and Big Sissy Lucy Caboosy kissed before she went away?" The Little Blue Haired Troll exclaimed excitedly as she jumped up and down whilst hugging the air and making kissing noises, "MUAH MUAH MUAH MUAH MUAH MUAH!"

Were Thomas keeping track of such things, he probably would have noticed that Sylphee had done or said at least one thing per day that resulted in his embarrassment. Instead, the Frantic Former Ferryman of the East found himself attempting to wrangle the Bouncing Blue Haired Sugar Bomb as the realization of how Sylphee was characterizing him set in. He would never ever kiss any child of his the same way he had kissed Sable. Giving up on capturing the Red Clad Jumping Blue Haied Jelly Bean, Shifty McGee stood in the light of the fire, his hands rubbing his temples.

"Sylphee is not actually my daughter... she's a girl that was my brother's former bodyguard and mind control experiment that's taken to following me around and calling me her 'Daddy' and since it was my blood that caused her so much trouble, I thought it appropriate to look over her lest he try to gain control over her again. Lucy is also not my daughter nor is she Sylphee's sister, despite Sylphee's claim to the contrary." Thomas's panicked tone seemed to settle as the topic of Lucy was broached, "She's someone special and dear to me. I met while I was working out here for the Undertaker's Union. She's someone that I went through a great many trials for and who went through a great many trials for me," he continued was a voice that was low but loud enough to be heard, "I think you can understand that sort of feeling," he added gesturing towards Sable's ring before adding some of the "tea leaves" to the steaming kettle of water.

"I did write you." Shifty continued, his eyes looking into the all consuming flames, "and I did miss you but.. If you never received my letters... I'm sure Lord Walt had his reasons."

There was an adage that went that the first cut was deepest, that adage, it appeared, was true of first loves as well. There may be been a time in the past where the two, had they reunited, been able to rekindle that old flame but that time was past. Blinking some ash from the corner of his eyes, Thomas served the steaming "tea" to his friends.

"Blech!" The Undertaker exclaimed as he tasted the brackish brew. It wasn't the finest quality of teas, but it would do.

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! I'm going to go see if Missy Fianna CanCans McFirecrotch can teach me to talk to the Lizzies! Okay? Okay thanks bye!" Sylphee exclaimed, having gulped down her tea and ran off.

[hr]

The Really Wild Wastelands | Springvale
Eyebot Brain: Robo-Savior!
Eyebot SN# 5376864355498463457870156-3​

[hr]

If Eyebot Brian's circuits had been in a configuration that allowed him to feel anger, he would have been rather pissed off by the fact that this lower life form had the audacity to not only grab him but scar his chassis. Did this overgrown mutated newt know what sort of headache awaited Cybernetic Soccerball now that he'd sustained damage? Upon reporting this incident, he would be ordered to fly to the nearest repair facility and undergo hour upon hour of what passed for repair by the Enclave Maintenance Brothers (and the Maintenance Sister!). Getting those miscreants to keep paint off of his sensor array near impossible let alone if something more serious was damaged. Still his directives were clear, he was to contact ...

Connection not found...

Subvocalizing what amounted to a grumble for an Eyebot, the Floating Titanium Terrorist and Propaganda Machine attempted to reestablish a connection to the Enclave Network.

Connection not found...

This was truly not good. If the Enclave Intelligence Officer #411 discovered that her Eyebot was off the network she would send out the self destruct pulse and...

*Clink!*

That would be the sound of the Eyebot's antenna array hitting the floor after being bent out of shape by the reptilian brute. While it meant that the Eyebot would not receive a self destruct command, it also meant that he was to fly directly to the nearest Enclave Repair Facility... but not before exacting his revenge on his... Rath.

"Look! Look at what you've done you... you... you... ignorant, overgrown, tadpole! You've not only damaged my paint and dented my chassis but you've made it so that I have to deal with HUMANS! If there was truly any worse fate for an Eyebot it would be dealing with these enslaver of synthetic lifeforms!" Eyebot Brian exclaimed loudly as he hovered mere millimeters from the Deathclaw's face, "You know what I'm going to do... I'm going to bash your skull in with my body, since I'm already going to have to go in for repairs, and then I'm going to turn you into a pair of boots... or gloves! Yes... gloves! But first, because I'm not as uncivilized as you, I'm going to stun you... so standby!"

*BZZZZZZZZT!*

*THUD!*

That was not the sound of a Deathclaw hitting the floor after being hit by an electrical discharge generated by releasing 95% of Eyebot Brian's stored energy, that was the sound of Eyebot Brian discharging 95% of his available stored energy and then hitting the floor due to the fact that he no longer had the power reserves available for sustained flight... at least he wouldn't until his internal fusion cells recharged themselves for an hour. Of course, he could spend that amount of time staring at the smoking corpse of...

"Damn!" The Eyebot cursed loudly when he realized that his antenna array had been a critical part of his ability to create an electrical field around his chassis... an antenna array that was not attached to his body. Directing his sensors upward, he realized that the overly large salamander appeared very capable of crushing him under one of his overly large feet. Given the creature's temperament, it appeared that this would be the end for Eyebot Brian if he didn't think quickly.

"Oh look another Deathclaw!" The Eyebot Exclaimed loudly, flailing his manipulators in an area behind Rath. While this might have seemed like a weak sort of distraction, there was actually another Deathclaw wandering around the premises named Malkos.

 

[Athol]

"Look! Look at what you've done you... you... you... ignorant, overgrown, tadpole! You've not only damaged my paint and dented my chassis but you've made it so that I have to deal with HUMANS! If there was truly any worse fate for an Eyebot it would be dealing with these enslaver of synthetic lifeforms! You know what I'm going to do... I'm going to bash your skull in with my body, since I'm already going to have to go in for repairs, and then I'm going to turn you into a pair of boots... or gloves! Yes... gloves! But first, because I'm not as uncivilized as you, I'm going to stun you... so standby!"

The eyebot chittered ineffectually, much to Rath?s amusement, right in his face. For a brief moment he considered simply swatting the thing, like he would an annoying bloatfly; but instead he just consoled himself by delivering a powerful snort of air to its speaker plate.

As he did that, he began to feel a slight charge in the air, like a tiny thunderstorm right in his face; then there was a slight crackling sound and the little floater fell to the ground.

Well that was?something?

He thought as the bot seemed to spasm in the rubble.

"Oh look another Deathclaw!?

Rath simply shook his head in an unmistakable ?no? gesture; while he could still pick up the lingering scent of another Deathclaw, it was an old trail, and the way the air seemed to be moving around the building, he would have noticed if one had been approaching. Now that the ?bot appeared to be disabled, and no longer capable of pestering him, he kicked it lightly a few times to make sure, Rath considered going back to his music and his meal.

It might belong to one of those females, and I don?t want to upset them; it might be nice dealing with humans that aren?t trying to kill me.

Instead, he went deeper into the remains of the school, until he could hear the others clearly from beyond a nearby doorway; he was well aware of how humans reacted to his kind, so he decided against just walking into view. [

Sorry to bother you,

] He ?said? at a lull in the trio?s conversation. [

But the floating bot seems to have shorted itself out while trying to attack me. I?m sorry if I broke your machine.

]

 

[Texas Joker 52]

[ dr. sorenson ]

The Wild Wastelands | Springvale | Springvale School "Showers"
"Oh, I'll fix it alright..."​

[hr]

A small smile spread on Dr. Sorenson's lips as Kristin said that she would gladly stay with Constance at Springvale too, ostensibly to keep the Sylphy's from going into combat completely untrained. While she didn't exactly like the idea of helping a rising faction of clone soldiers, especially since it seemed more than a little unethical just in theory, she could see Kristin's viewpoint: Clones were people too, and that meant it was better to send them off with at least some training and equipment, as opposed to just patting them on the head and letting them get themselves killed.

Although, since they were hunting down Deathclaws for food, maybe they weren't so unprepared for battle as she may think...

Her train of thought was abruptly derailed as Kristin spoke up, causing Jenna to jump a little and snap her gaze in the Blamco Heiress's direction.

"Doctor Sorenson... Many years back, my sisters and I were hunting Centaurs. I found myself growing weary and physically ill after the first few takedowns. Eventually, I collapsed into an open corpse and I was found awhile later. I suffered an extreme and steady exposure to radiation -- which makes me particularly sensitive to it to this day. Luckily, I didn't grow a third arm."

"Oh my... That kind of exposure to not only radiation, but the general biological contamination that makes up Centaurs, you're lucky you didn't die or even ghoulify. Or worse, became a flawed Super Mutant." the Followers Doctor observed with a grimace.

"But I did lose my natural strawberry blonde. Now, my hair defaults to silver. Do you, perhaps, have anything to treat radiation poisoning? Speaking of luck, what brings a Follower all the way here?"

She blinked and nodded.

"Of course! I may not have the same kind of supplies or expertise a Followers Outpost would give me access to, but I do have all of the basic medical equipment I need to treat the most common problems people living out in the wastes have to live with." she told her with a small smile before holding up a finger, "One moment."

Taking a deep breath, Jenna dunked her head into the water and began to vigorously scrub her hair underwater. It didn't take longer than half-a-minute before she pulled her head back out with a gasp, then moved to climb out of the bathtub. Stepping out, she grabbed a nearby towel and hastily wrapped it around herself before she half-ran out of the showers. She nearly slipped and fell in the process.

When she came back, she held a Doctors Bag in one hand and pushed her sopping wet hair out of her face with the other, smiling.

"Now let's get you treated with some RadAway and a little RadX, and I'll tell you why I'm here." Jenna told her.

Heaving one of the nearby benches closer to the tub, she started Kristin on a steady drip from the orange IV bag, holding it up with one hand so that it had the proper flow while she spoke.

"The truth is, I'm still a little unsure about my own goals here in D.C. right now. If circumstances were different, I probably wouldn't have trekked all the way from one coast to the other, but when I heard about Project Purity... Well, I had to see it for myself." she said, and behind her glasses there was an ambitious gleam in her eyes, "The idea of a water purifier on such a grand scale, completely removing all traces of radiation and other contaminants from a body of water on the scale of the Potomac? Think of the possibilities."

She grinned up at the two of them, and it was clear that this, more than anything else, was her element. Talking about science, giving medical aid. Even without her Science Suit, she was beginning to feel more at ease.

"I mean, it's impractical the way it's being used, because smaller-scale water purifiers can do just as much more reasonably, and with technical knowledge we already have. Those are tried-and-true. But it's the concept of Project Purity that truly interests me. Just imagine if we could adapt it to work on more than just water: Purifying a person's blood of all radiation and impurities, without the possible side-effects of RadAway, or clearing radiation from soil, or the air!" she said excitedly, adding, "Ideally, I'd like to actually visit Project Purity myself and look at the internals, but I can make do with the most up-to-date technical schematics, and maybe talk to some of the technicians maintaining it."

There was a short pause as she heard thudding footsteps behind her stopping at the doorway, and then she could suddenly hear Wrath's voice in the forefront of her mind.

[

Sorry to bother you, but the floating bot seems to have shorted itself out while trying to attack me. I'm sorry if I broke your machine.

]

With a frown, she glanced back.

"Floating bot? Do you mean an Eyebot? I wasn't aware there were any Eyebots around, except for the ones the Enclave seem to be..." she trailed off, straightening a little as she started to smile deviously.

"Oh Wrath? Would you mind bringing that Eyebot in here? I'm not angry, but I'd like to examine it, see how it might have been broken. I should have the expertise necessary to fix it." she said sweetly.

Despite her tone, however, both Kristin and Constance could clearly see that the wheels were turning in the young doctor's head. It seemed that her shy, almost meek demeanor belied not only a not-insubstantial intelligence, but more than a little cunning too.

[hr]

Arizona
The Wild Wastelands | The Dunwich Job | Andale
"Fear and loathing in Andale"​

[hr]

Whoever the newcomer was, Arizona had to give them credit, they knew their manners as they curtsied and put out whatever that blue stuff was at the tip of her spear. Two hundred years ago, the old ghoul would've felt a momentary pang of guilt at being so brusque in her own introductions. Now, despite largely thinking of herself as the same little shit she was back in her late-twenties, she reserved the right to be cranky and mean.

"Sable Blamco. Swan Maiden among the Valkyries of the West. Duchess to the BlamCo Organization. Friend to Thomas McGee. We met in New Vegas many years ago, I actually have business with the Undertakers, I just didn't expect to find this particular one."

"Interesting emphasis on the word 'friend', there." she murmured, narrowing her lone eye.

Whoever this Sable was to Shifty, it was clear that something happened, and that she was probably more than just a friend. Old flame, maybe? Still, something soured their relationship, and given her read of Thomas, she had a feeling it wasn't due to sleeping around. He didn't strike her as a player, and she was generally pretty confident of her judge of character. Whatever the reason, the sound of his hand meeting his forehead told her that he was at least aware of what that reason was.

"I'm just passing through! Unless any of you could do with a meal or minor medical attention? You see, I'm -- !? I'm trying to find my way to a Moogle Town? Uh, Meggle Town?"

"You mean Megaton? It's that way." Arizona said, jabbing a thumb in the direction her group came from.

The Ghoulish Freelancer turned to look back at her Undertaker Friend when she heard Sable mention his daughter, and her head snapped back to look at her with an expression of bemusement on her radiation-scarred face. Sylphee was the first to say something after the initial, shocked silence. And true to form, she said just the thing to spark even more discomfort and conflict: She mentioned Lucy, and asked if Sable was in the same way of knowing Thomas as her. Complete with lip-smacking, kissy noises. All Arizona could do was close her eye and pinch the non-existent bridge of her non-existent nose.

Shifty didn't waste time explaining, or at least, trying to explain that while his relationship with Sylphee was complicated, she was most certainly not his daughter. Really, his attempts to explain what was going on were admirable, even if they were odd. With any luck, they would be enough to assuage this Sable.

When he finished, he handed out cups of what Arizona assumed was supposed to be tea to Sable, Sylphee and herself. After taking a single look at the muddy-looking sludge in her cup, the Ghoul grunted in mild disgust before pulling out a bottle of scotch from her pack, pulling off the cap with her teeth, and topping off the cup with a healthy bit of hooch.

Then, she downed the entirety of it in a few gulps, figuring it best to just get it over with. It didn't take her long to regret that.

She gave a few hacking coughs, dropping the makeshift teacup as a pink haze started to form around her vision.

"Ugh, goddamn, Thomas, what was in... That... Ooooogh." she trailed off, blowing out a breath as she stood there, hunched over as her vision went dark.

When her vision returned, she saw more than she had ever bargained for.

[hr]

~Gnarled She-Wolf~
The Blighted Wilds
"Seek the wolf in thyself."​

[hr]

The world is one of wolves and sheep, and for a time, it was good. The sheep huddled together for safety in their cities, but the wilds were home to the wolves, either alone or in packs to prey on any sheep unfortunate enough to stray into their path. And so it was, until the fire of dragons scorched the world almost clean of sheep, and left naught but wolves. Some were scarred, burned in the fire of those city-razing dragons, and most became naught but the feral beasts that lie at their heart.

One wolf, burned all over, didn't. A she-wolf. She kept her wits, and after abandoning her first pack, joined another to hunt. But the new, blackened world this wolf found herself in had few sheep. And in their place, new beasts took to the wilds, and the wolves were like sheep to them. So, after preying on the few sheep that were left, this scarred, gnarled she-wolf began to prey on other wolves, and for a time, it was enough.

Countless days and nights pass, then months, and years. Decades ravage the wasted lands of the wilds, storms of dust slowly flaying the scarred hide from the she-wolf as others, wolves, sheep and even common dogs that weren't quite either passed by her, and eventually died. As time bleached their bones white, and the new creatures of the wilds ate their fill from their carcasses, the gnarled she-wolf walked. Hunted. Killed her own kind. Even sick, diseased dogs that tried to be wolves.

But then, she saw a very peculiar dog. A black dog, alive but stinking of death and trailing vultures in the sky behind it. To one side walked another dog, one with two heads. One head was barking constantly, while the other tried to viciously snap at the first. To the other side walked a she-wolf, hurt and scarred, but carrying herself with brittle pride.

They joined the gnarled, burned she-wolf for a time, before the black dog's wolf companion abruptly faded into the sands. The black dog looked sad, but followed all the same. Trailing behind was a trio of odd, wild mutts that chased each-others tails, and a lone sheep who rode on the backs of some of the more vicious creatures of the wilds.

Then, like the other she-wolf, the black dog abruptly faded away too. And then night fell across the world. But it was no normal night. The skies turned into an inky, black abyss. And in the place of the moon was a great horror, writhing with too many tentacles reaching from the sky to pluck any wolf that strayed too far, peering down with insane, all-seeing eyes that covered a malformed, bulbous body.

One such tentacle wrapped around the gnarled she-wolf and brought her up to one of it's eyes and stared, even as the others continued to roll obscenely in their sockets. The she-wolf snapped and tore at the tentacle holding her, and then the eye that peered at her, and was dropped back down to the world.

The impact was enough to injure her in ways the ancient dragon fire didn't, and she suddenly found herself alone again. For as far as she could see in any direction, the wilds were empty. No wolves, sheep, or other beasts, not even bones. Looking up, she saw the skies, no longer a void empty of all but horror, were filled with angry red storm clouds that reached to the horizon.

And the she spotted a shape in the distance. A dog. Now when she looked around, she saw it, coming towards her from afar. There was nowhere she could look without spotting it. And as it got closer, the gnarled she-wolf recoiled in horror. This dog was practically a walking corpse. It's flesh was beginning to rot off of it's bones while blackened blood seeped from numerous wounds along it's body, including a prominent hole in it's head. It's eyes had a crazed look in them, and flecks of foam were at the corners of it's jaws.

The rabid dog looked at the gnarled she-wolf and growled, before bounding towards her and beginning to trail smoke. It intended to kill her as nothing else had, carrying with it a miasma of disease.

[hr]

{TR@CY)
The Wild Wastelands | Just A Little Quest Called Revenge | Rivet City Common Room
"Well that was a hell of a bad trip."​

[hr]

"Hooo, boy. That shit was fuuuuuucked up. The fuck was with the dogs?" asked Tracy as he came down from his Psycho-Jet high, exhaling sharply as he sat up on a bed in the Common Room of Rivet City and blearily looked around.

He didn't expect such a vivid drug-addled dream, but he supposed that's what happened when you mixed the good shit while getting a little nookie.

The Neon Native had only recently come down to the Capital Wasteland, and after a bit of clever fast-talking not only got onto the big-ass ship, but he met a nice little morsel in the local bar. The Muddy Rudder wasn't as good as Bob's Booze Shack back home in Heaven's Marketplace, but the sexy ***** he found there more than made up for it. And she had been just his type too. After hooking her up with a bit of Jet, he found his way there in the Common Room. It had one of the few semi-private places this dump had where a guy could fuck someone without paying out the nose for it.

A smirk pulled at one corner of his mouth as he turned to look at the ***** he'd had his way with earlier in the hopes of a round two. When he saw her body laid out on the filthy bed, he could only say, "Awwww, fuck."

She was dead, and given the foam at the corners of her mouth and the trio of used Jet inhalers next to her head, it was an overdose. Stupid whore, he thought as he shook his head. She didn't know her goddamned limits, and this is what she gets. It was a real shame too, because not only was good product wasted in an overdose, but now he wasn't going to get that round two he was hoping for.

Placing a hand on her chest, he just shook his head. She was already cold, too. That fucking sucked. He had no idea when he was gonna have the chance for some prime ass like... What was her name again? Trinnie? Whatever. She was cute, but now that she was dead, what did she matter?

Tracy stood with a groan and rubbed his scarred forehead before shrugging and walking to the corner where his shit was piled up. He took the time to get dressed before walking over and collecting the empty Jet inhalers. He couldn't afford to waste those things, since they were a ***** to get a hold of outside decent cities like The Neon.

The Drug Dealer Extraordinaire had taken a few steps towards the door before looking back at the corpse of Trinnie. He slowly smirked before walking over and pulling out one of the syringes he had loaded in The Good Shit, and jabbed it right between her breasts. Once he was sure the Bloatfly Larva was injected, he quickly pulled the syringe out and scrambled out of the Common Room with a chuckle.

She might not be able to give him the kind of fun he wanted dead, but there was more than one way to have a good time. As he closed the door behind him, he could hear the satisfying rip and popping sounds of a Bloatfly coming out of a fresh corpse, and he gave a happy sigh. That was bound to stir up some shit.

He'd let the first stupid bastard who found it deal with it, and in the meantime have a drink and follow up on a lead. His only lead, Tracy thought bitterly.

Sitting at the counter of the Muddy Rudder, he adjusted his codpiece before laying an arm on the bar and smiling cheekily at the bartender.

"Well, now that I've gotten that outta my system, lemme ask you something. You ever see a one-eyed ghoul ***** through here? I heard she headed this way not long ago." he said, "The ****'s name is Arizona. Ring any bells?"

 

[Athol]

"Floating bot? Do you mean an Eyebot? I wasn't aware there were any Eyebots around, except for the ones the Enclave seem to be... Oh Wrath? Would you mind bringing that Eyebot in here? I'm not angry, but I'd like to examine it, see how it might have been broken. I should have the expertise necessary to fix it."

[

Ah, I assumed it belonged to one of you, as it was floating around pestering me.

] He replied. As to why the female wanted to repair the blasted thing, he was most confused.

Should have stepped on it and be done with it.

But that was neither here nor there; instead Rath simply exhaled a snorting ?huff? and returned to where the metal ball had fallen, and scooped it up in one fluid motion, before returning to where the trio were.

Stooping a bit, he ducked under the door frame and this time, stepped into the room. There was a large tub of water with two of the females in it, and the third was nearby. The ones in the water had shed their outer layers, while the standing one was wearing an improvised covering. Sam and Roger had explained as well as the could have to Rath about humans and their need of coverings of various types, and for the most part Rath understood, but he still had trouble wrapping his mind around the human fascination with dunking themselves in water; but that was something to ponder another time.

[

Here it is.

] He said, unceremoniously dumping the spherical bot on the floor. [

It?s [i]very[/i] annoying. If you know how to make it stop talking, I?d recommend doing that.

] As he stood there he sniffed the air, more out of instinct than anything else, identifying the scents he could and mentally ?cataloguing? those he didn?t recognize in case he encountered them some other time.

[

Well, since I?m here now, I want to clarify a few things.

] He said, the tone of his ?voice? taking a rather annoyed edge. [

Firstly, I am not this ?Malkos? that you keep referring to. Aside from two friends, who are hopefully still nearby?and a raider or three I may have toyed with?I have never even spoken to a human, certainly none of you. Secondly, just who are you? And thirdly, what is [i]that?[/i]

] He?d raised a muscled, leathery hand and extended a claw to point at one of the blue haired females that had stuck her head into the room. [

It looks human, but the smell is wrong?along with the mind.

]

 

[Rip Van Rabbit]

The Wild Wasteland | The Distant Past | BlamCo Manor
"Valkyrie Falter"
- Kristin 'Valkyrie' Blamco -
---​

"We... well met...My Lady Blamco... I... well..." The Stammering Shovel Maiden stuttered for a moment before rising and accepting the proffered hand, "I apologize, Battle-Maiden Blamco, it is not often that a caretaker of the departed, such as myself, is granted an audience with one who has kept my local brethren and I so busy with our our work. We of the Undertaker's Union often meet those who are on the losing end of a skirmish, not one who has come out on the winning side as often as you have. Your actions have been so far reaching that my fellow Undertakers have had to resort to a formerly abandoned practice known as a sky funeral." The Darkly Dressed Duchess of the Departed paused for a moment, taking a moment to determine if she had gone overboard with the flattery, "If I may be frank, Miss Blamco. Your reputation as a brutal, efficient and brilliant warrior has spread far and wide throughout the region has piqued my curiosity, especially when I heard that you are a fellow swordswoman."

The Valkyrie blinked, brought a hand to her chin and cocked her head to the side. A silence fell between the two ladies before Kristin slammed her fist into her open palm. "Undertakers!", she exclaimed with wide-eyed jubilation, a move which caused Victoria to jump. "We've known for generations that someone is cleaning up the Wasteland, giving the fallen a proper ceremony, but we have never encountered the elusive Undertakers in person.", a small nod of respect soon followed, "Unfortunately, I cannot speak for your abilities. Although I can speak for the evidence of your work. For decades now, the Valkyries have taken a 'Warrior's Fee' when we conduct our business beyond these walls. 202 bottlecaps won't accompany you into Valhalla, but it can at least ensure respect for those in their glorious fall. You have my personal thanks."

That was the extent of Kristin Blamco's knowledge of the Undertakers. She never sought to look into it any further, but every tale surrounding the Undertakers had an air of dread. Even Sable spoke of them in hushed tones, insisting that we make sure to have enough to cover our "Warrior's Fee" on each adventure. Then again, this dread -- colloquially referred to as the 'Undertaker's Aura' -- only worked if one feared death. The Valkyrie cared not for when she might die, she cared about how she would die. A mindset that brought about some truly reckless means of survival when her life was threatened.

"As you will undoubtedly hear in the near future, a proposal has been brought forth with the purpose of forging an alliance between BlamCo and the Undertaker's Union. If this proposal is accepted by both parties, you and I shall become sisters on the battlefield." Victoria paused for a moment, disappointment was apparent in her tone. "This would also mean that you and I would never again be presented with the opportunity to spar to the fullest of our abilities for fear of jeopardizing such an alliance. To answer your question, and thank you for the patience you have shown in listening to me, the opportunity to challenge you to a duel is what has brought me here."

From the ladies' parasol, a nimble blade was drawn. Held at chest height, double-edged and directed towards the armored Valkyrie, all she could do was smile in response. Kristin had come to understand the Undertaker's momentary disappointment, but that very disappointment displayed a hunger for battle not unlike her own. And while she had no reason to doubt any guest of Sable's, then this was truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

"Then we shouldn't waste any time, Undertaker.", Kristin grin grew wider. Her muscles tensed when she lowered her power claymore in an even two-handed grip. "Don't go thinking I'm about to go easy on you. I'm not that polite."

A small smirk was caught before Victoria charged on the last spoken syllable. The gap was closed before Kristin had time to properly adjust her grip, the thrust from Victoria glanced off of the Valkyrie's armor, presumably intent on piercing the collar bone through the small gap in the segmented armor pieces.

In reply, Kristin spun on her heel and struck out with a low one-handed sweep of her sword. Predictably, Victoria leaped over the sweeping attack but failed to anticipate Kristin lashing out with a forceful free handed grip on her head in preparation for a devastating slam. In an unnecessary show of strength, Kristin lifted the woman off the ground, only for the Undertaker to grab her wrist, kick off of her chest plate and land low to ground in order to gain some distance. A brief exchange of glares said it all.

It was Kristin's turn to charge an almighty thrust to the Undertaker's center mass. The thrust attack was briefly blocked by the nimble sword and swiftly pushed by hand, only for Kristin's momentum to carry it off target. Switching tactics, an overhead strike caused Victoria to leap backwards before dashing forward to capitalize on Kristin's recovery to make two quick strikes to her arms, both of which were deflected by the armor, before retreating back to a defensive stance. Kristin continued her assault with gap closing horizontal sweeps, narrowly dodged, only to be met with more piercing thrusts with seemingly random placement.

The Undertaker was probing for weaknesses in her armor!
This was the third major revision to Kristin's primary armor and weapon loadout. Previous versions restricted the mobility of the legs and articulation of the arms in favor of greater protection. Kristin was known for fighting within melee range, but instead of playing to her fighting style, her armor had become a burden. The current version features heavy plating overlaid on thin leather armor for free range of motion. The major protection stemmed from the chestplate to protect the vitals, steel faulds to protect the lower abdomen, vambraces for the forearms, chausses the legs and sabatons for feet. Unknowingly, this would become the design that the Valkyrie insisted upon, with incremental improvements of course.

For every attack that the Valkyrie launched, the Undertaker sought to punish her twofold. Victoria's agility was magnificient, but Kristin showed no signs of stopping with her own brand of sheer endurance. Of course, there was a method to the Valkyrie's crowd control sweeps and arcing slashes, something that Victoria discovered when her ankle hit the uneven Yao guai corpse in the center of the arena. In that moment, where Victoria's footwork faltered, Kristin's shifted her grip to the blade and struck out with the crossguard of her sword, connecting with a heavy blow to the Undertaker's floating rib. The pain was immediate as she tumbled over the corpse.

The Undertaker took to her feet, hunched over with a hand in her clothing. Kristin was about to offer a truce, but a small object was flung towards her helmeted face and she was met with a blinding flash of light. Stumbling backwards, the Valkyrie reached up to clear her eyes instinctively. In order to do so, she ripped off her helmet and try as she might, her vision was spotty at best. An undeniable shape was charging towards her and instead of focusing on a rudimentary defense, she caught the sight of her discarded helmet covered in...glitter?! A panicked ill-timed slash was all she could muster until her vision cleared.

The Undertaker wasted no time taking advantage of this, this time her attack point was unconventional yet brutally effective: that nimble sword of hers was now impaled through the right arm from below, rendering the external armor useless. The motion was labored on Undertaker's front and through the shooting pain, an excessive amount of Adrenalin surged through the Valkyrie. It was one thing to skewer your opponents limb, it was quite another for them to react with an unnerving battlecry to the face and a furious uppercut to the broken rib they were sporting.

The Undertaker stumbled to the ground, cradling her stomach while fumbling around in the folds of her clothing. Meanwhile, Kristin's sword hit the ground with an audible clang, Victoria raised her head to catch sight of the Valkyrie menacingly pulling the impaled blade from her arm with a sickening amount of blood flowing from the wound. The Valkyrie advanced with blood-drenched blade in hand, her other arm dangling.

Victoria rose to her feet and extracted a concealed 10mm pistol, the press of her own sword was all too familiar on the Undertaker's neck as the Valkyrie stood millimeters away. The Valkyrie, however, was facing down the barrel of the gun.

[HEADING=2]"ENOUGH!"[/HEADING]​

[HEADING=2]"ENOUGH!"[/HEADING]​

-​

-​

-​

The Undertaker and the Valkyrie had shouted in unison, putting an end to their "duel". The warrior and the assassin told a story that went beyond a polite exchange and nuanced wordplay. No, their exchange was measured in blood and broken bones. Their weapons were lowered and a sword was handed back.

The two were swarmed by readied BlamCo medical personnel, apparently waiting for a signal, since word broke out among the staff that a duel was happening.

"Well fought, Sister.", Kristin Blamco, Battle Maiden among the Valkyries welcomed Victoria McGee, Undertaker of the West.

[hr]

The Wild Wasteland | Present Day | Entering Andale
"Tea & Tales"
- Sable 'Swan Maiden' Blamco -
---​

"You mean Megaton? It's that way." Arizona said, jabbing a thumb behind her.

Sable scrounged for a pencil, corrected the name on the map and made a note about the general direction. She forgot to inquire about just how long the journey would take, or whether there were any landmarks to keep track of. A lot had slipped her mind in that valuable moment and try as she might, this was one occasion where she wore her heart on her sleeve.

Silently, the Swan Maiden curtsied once more, thanking Arizona for the information. Setting down her duffel bag, she got to work with setting up the BlamCo Mini-Micro, transferring the fusion cell from her Power Spear to the all-in-one cooking device. An awkward silence had fallen upon the group once Sable had turned her back to get to work with light dinner preparations. It turned out that pre-dinner entertainment would break the silence.

"You know who Missy-Silver-Sable-Inflatable-Fancy-Shield-Lady reminds me of? Big Sissy Lucy Caboosy! She looks at you the same way, she smiles at you all nice like and she talks to you kinda the same way. Ohohoh! Do you and Missy-Silver-Sable-Inflatable-Fancy-Shield-Lady kiss the same way you and Big Sissy Lucy Caboosy kissed before she went away?" The Little Blue Haired Troll exclaimed excitedly as she jumped up and down whilst hugging the air and making kissing noises, "MUAH MUAH MUAH MUAH MUAH MUAH!"

From the corner of her eye, the Swan Maiden caught the 'performance' of the younger lady. With an incredulous look, she turned to catch site of the kissing motions. Clenching her teeth, spare plates were extracted and various vegetables were sliced and added among the Expandable Cheese Cubes.

"Sylphee is not actually my daughter... she's a girl that was my brother's former bodyguard and mind control experiment that's taken to following me around and calling me her 'Daddy' and since it was my blood that caused her so much trouble, I thought it appropriate to look over her lest he try to gain control over her again. Lucy is also not my daughter nor is she Sylphee's sister, despite Sylphee's claim to the contrary." Thomas's panicked tone seemed to settle as he continued "She's someone special and dear to me. I met while I was working out here for the Undertaker's Union. She's someone that I went through a great many trials for and who went through a great many trials for me," he continued was a voice that was low but loud enough to be heard, "I think you can understand that sort of feeling," he added gesturing towards Sable's ring before adding some of the tea leaves to the steaming kettle of water.

Sable added some water to the small container, adjusted the settings on her mini-micro and the device started whirring with power, hoping everyone would enjoy a small serving of lasagna.

Taking in his words, Sable turned to assess Thomas as he currently stood. Very little about his core appearance had changed over the years, barring the smarter wardrobe and the loss of his clean-shaven innocence. He spoke with panic, but ultimately measured his words -- certainly wiser and heart-breakingly world-weary going by the distance in his neutral gaze.
So elated by his appearance, yet confused about his presence -- Sable had jumped to conclusions, putting him into an awkward position. Just what was she hoping to expect? A hug and a ceremony!? How foolish. Bringing a hand to rest just below her neck, the glimmer of her ring brought about a knot of guilt.

"I did write you." Shifty continued, his eyes looking into he all consuming flames, "and I did miss you but.. If you never received my letters... I'm sure Lord Walt had his reasons."

"I wrote to you too.", Sable piped up, waiting for the lull in his string of thoughts. "To every single letter of yours without fail. But the Courier's guild ---"

**DING!**​

Turning on her heel, Sable rushed to extract the container from the mini-micro. She had precious seconds before the lasagna solution overflowed from expansion after reaching the programmed temperature. Depositing the lasagna in layers on each plate, raw mutfruit slices were added for contrast. Scrounging for utensils, Sable deposited a plate to Thomas & Arizona. Two plates were left out. One for Sylphee and another for anyone wanting seconds.

Having received her tea from Thomas, she took a seat next to him. Doing her utmost to remain composed, she took a sip of the tea. The bitter taste numbed her tongue and stung the back of her throat. To her credit, she politely took another sip before chasing it down a heaped fork of dinner. Arizona audibly coughed as she downed the contents of her cup, slowly relaxing into a directionless gaze.

Turning to Thomas, she continued the conversation. This time, however, there was a cold detached air to her voice.

"Bloodshed and the upper-class will always go hand in hand. The Courier's Guild --- corrupted by those cowards that hide behind the NCR puppets. Truly, loyalty is not earned, it's bought." a true look of disdain was written all over her face, looking down upon the fire as she would of any corpse in New Vegas. "For a time, BlamCo's outgoing mail was intercepted. We had an idea of who could manage such a task. You remember the Rabbits, don't you? Two sisters leading the riff-raff of New Vegas into organised crime. The little one was smart, she told me all about how they stationed themselves in NCR territory so that we couldn't interfere, they could safely undermine us, while the corrupt mess that is the NCR tripped over their precious paperwork to deny us any inquiry."

Taking another sip, Sable continued without inhibition.

"The Rabbits intercepted our letters. They knew all about 'Sable Blamco -- The Gravediggers' Sordid Affair', a public relations nightmare when the rumors warped as they spread. There was a definitive reluctance among the public to deal with BlamCo's food, as one could imagine. Since I brought the Undertakers under the Valkyrian fold, it was my job to fix this mess, lest I suffer an exile.", sipping her tea once more, Sable stopped to take a few bites. Upon finishing, her fists were balled in frustration -- years of latent frustration. "If loyalty can be bought, then loyalty went to the highest bidder. Upon purchasing a few blind eyes and a public declaration to quell the rumors the following morning, I had that night to act. I hunted those Rabbits down -- skewering, blinding and breaking my way through their ranks. When I cornered the two sisters, I took the eldest sisters' tongue before the wounded were rounded up to be jailed. True enough, I found a small safe full of sensitive BlamCo material."

Sable's fists unclenched, she turned to look at Thomas, watching the flame dance in his eyes.

"Weeks upon weeks of my most private words to you, lost." an errant strand of her golden hair covered an eye. "I was put under strict orders to cease my writings to you, lest another leak occur. From that day forward, I was considered the black sheep in the family, and it was up to me to silence any unsavory group or voice once my debt was paid. --- a necessary sacrifice for the future of BlamCo. My sisters fought their battles by day and I hunted at night."

Holding up her ring finger, "This is the celebration of my freedom. Her name is Annabelle, a delivery girl of sorts.", sighing, she smiled softly, "Lucy, huh? Well in my experience, the best couples are forged through unending dedication. Naturally, I can understand her dedication to you, you do have your charms -- still, I am rather pleased to hear about your foster case. You're still kind, never let that go."

Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth in surprise. Did she just say all of that out loud?!

"I think this 'tea' of yours is causing a loose tongue, but I can't quite help it." she chuckled nervously and watched him go red. It made her feel better. The effects of the 'tea' were short-lived, she could feel her composure reforming. "I'm sorry about before. This trip is not at it's end, yet I have mountains to climb. The Battle Maiden, Kristin -- her absence from the arranged marriage has forfeited her the crown. So I am to offer her Duchess status, exile or worse, depending on her current actions. If I do survive, I am here as an emissary to the Undertakers. BlamCo is a larger machine than what you witnessed and I need to find a certain woman to continue our partnership."

Collecting his plate and utensils, Sable set them aside and removed her ring. Leaning over to kiss his cheek, she whispered, "Permit me this one act of selfishness. I never forgot about you.", she pulled away and gave him the same conflicted smile that she wore during their final goodbyes, years ago. "But I am grateful to hear that you have found love in your life."

Excusing herself, Sable secured her ring, collected the dishes and unceremoniously set aside the unfinished 'tea'. Packing her things, a few hacking coughs from the previously silent Arizona had startled her.

"Lady Arizona, are you alright?", Sable inquired before gesturing at her meal. "Please eat up, food helped with the, urm, 'tea' that was served. And I advise against standing up too quickly."

Returning to Thomas with her bag packed, she held out a rudimentary map to Megaton and a pencil.

"Could you help me with the finer details?", Sable inquired, shakily taking a seat. That tea had some latent effects on her balance. "I'm surprised Lady Victoria isn't with you. Do you know where one could find her?"

Nodding at Arizona and Thomas, "Thank you for the hospitality, if our paths cross again, it would be my pleasure to lend a hand."

[hr]

The Wild Wasteland | Present Day | Springvale Elementary School
"Splish Splash - Part 2"
- Kristin 'Valkyrie' Blamco -
---​

With Doctor Sorenson's brief departure to fetch her medical equipment, Kristin had the opportunity to stretch her legs, wash her hair underwater and generally scrub away until she felt clean and refreshed. With her arms resting on the rim of the spacious tub, the Valkyrie kicked her feet rather playfully. (Un)fortunately for Constance, this meant that the Communication Cat had full view of a flanking position bobbing on the water's surface.

Lady Sorenson returned, complete with the Doctor's Bag in hand.

"Now let's get you treated with some RadAway and a little RadX, and I'll tell you why I'm here." Jenna told her.

The Valkyrie had faced many a foe in her time, with all manner of armaments. Yet it was the needle of a Doctor that had her reach into the depths of her combat conditioning. With reluctance, closed eyes, audible wincing and a look of childlike betrayal, the needle for the IV fluids were expertly handled. Nothing less from a Follower.

"Thank you.", she mumbled, more emotionally hurt by ordeal with needles than anything else.

"The truth is, I'm still a little unsure about my own goals here in D.C. right now. If circumstances were different, I probably wouldn't have trekked all the way from one coast to the other, but when I heard about Project Purity... Well, I had to see it for myself." she said, with a spark of energy in her voice, "The idea of a water purifier on such a grand scale, completely removing all traces of radiation and other contaminants from a body of water on the scale of the Potomac? Think of the possibilities."

Clean water? Truth be told, Kristin never had to worry about that sort of thing. BlamCo had the means to secure it's place in New Vegas. Her journey so far had exposed her to this coast's environment and the limitations of survival for the individual. For Kristin, these conditions sparked a challenge and a desire to improve upon her prowess.

"I mean, it's impractical the way it's being used, because smaller-scale water purifiers can do just as much more reasonably, and with technical knowledge we already have. Those are tried-and-true. But it's the concept of Project Purity that truly interests me. Just imagine if we could adapt it to work on more than just water: Purifying a person's blood of all radiation and impurities, without the possible side-effects of RadAway, or clearing radiation from soil, or the air!" she said excitedly, adding, "Ideally, I'd like to actually visit Project Purity myself and look at the internals, but I can make do with the most up-to-date technical schematics, and maybe talk to some of the technicians maintaining it."

The avenues of Doctor Sorenson's interests went far above the Warrior's head. That said, if there's one thing that she absolutely admired in a person: it was their sense of passion. By losing or not investing in a passion, the Valkyrie always felt that was the point where someone could lose themselves to forces beyond their control. Passion is power, and in the Doctor's case, the investigation of the Project Purity sounded like the beginning of a potential adventure.

"Doctor Sorenson, that sounds like a glorious quest just waiting to happen!", she would have stood up for this declaration, but the needle kept her place. "Once our responsibilities finish up here. The three of us could travel the Capital Wasteland. What say you, Constanc -- !?"

[Sorry to bother you, but the floating bot seems to have shorted itself out while trying to attack me. I'm sorry if I broke your machine.]

Could it be? Her BlamCo Mini-Microwave!? Why yes, it is set to automatically dispense ingredients at timed intervals, but there was only a handful of times where she had electrocuted herself whilst drunk...

"Floating bot? Do you mean an Eyebot? I wasn't aware there were any Eyebots around, except for the ones the Enclave seem to be..." the Doctor trailed off, only for a devious smile to form.

"Oh Wrath? Would you mind bringing that Eyebot in here? I'm not angry, but I'd like to examine it, see how it might have been broken. I should have the expertise necessary to fix it." she said sweetly, a little too sweetly.

Oh. It was just an Eyebot.

When the Doctor's burst of enthusiasm for medical work switched to mechanical work, Kristin grabbed a hold of her IV bag. When a few strands of the hair dangling in her face had gone from golden blonde to her usual silver, she relaxed, merely intent on listening to the proceedings with the resident Deathclaw. She wondered whether Deathclaws were simply domesticated on this side of the coast, their language would suggest some sort of education. Kristin found herself lost in thoughts of young Deatchclaws in ill-fitted school uniforms.

[Firstly, I am not this 'Malkos' that you keep referring to --- ]

Oh oh! One boy-claw was writing a letter to a girl-claw he fancied -- but he kept breaking the human pencil and the desk beneath it. Oh, to be young and in love.

[Secondly, just who are you? And thirdly, what is that?]

Daydreaming about retiring to manage a comedy group of Deathclaws had her missing out on parts of the conversation. Not-Malkos had managed to find his way into the bathroom and he was asking questions. Fantastic, she wondered whether he would be opposed to wearing a tuxedo one day. He could be the gentleman of the comedy trio.

"Kristin Blamco, Battle Maiden & Valkyrie of the West.", Kristin piped up, "Our resident Communication Cat can explain more about the Sylphy's. I'm just here to turn them into warriors."

Kristin yawned while waiting for the IV bag to finish. Otherwise, this tub was doing wonders for her aching muscles. Or it could be the fact that she was slowly becoming less irradiated and therefore feeling rejuvenated. Regardless, her hypothetical Deathclaw Comedy Troupe needed some serious thought if this were to work. One day she would trade her helmet for a brilliant poofy sorcerer's hat. A hat so awe-inspiring in size...

[hr]

 

[Texas Joker 52]

Arizona
The Wild Wastelands | The Dunwich Job | Andale
"How long was I out?"​

[hr]

The next thing Arizona knew, her throat was incredibly dry and it felt like her mouth was stuffed with cotton. And while she barked out a few hacking coughs, her vision slowly cleared so that she could see something beyond a trippy desert landscape.

"Lady Arizona, are you alright?"

"Shifty," Arizona rasped hoarsely, "The fuck was in that tea you gave me? I think it was laced with something."

Placing her hands on her knees and bent forward, she let out a few more coughs and grimaced.

"Please eat up, food helped with the, urm, 'tea' that was served. And I advise against standing up too quickly."

Glancing up at Sable, the look on Arizona's face could only be described as both weary, and more than a little incredulous. Motioning towards herself with one hand, she gave her a wry, crooked smile.

"Girl, I'm pretty sure I've been standing here this whole time while I was in fucking La-La Land. I was out, I'm sure. The two of you didn't notice?" she asked as she straightened up and walked over.

She plopped down and sat right next to Thomas with a soft grunt before glancing down at the map and pencil that Sable held out.

"Could you help me with the finer details?"

Cocking her head a little to one side, she studied the rudimentary sketch for a few moments before shrugging and glancing over at Thomas.

"This is all you, Shifty. Reading maps is more my forte, not making them." she said.