- Joined
- Jul 7, 2011
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District of Columbia, USA
Outside of Vault 104
The summer sun beat down on the grayish brown ground. Evidence of lives before The War lay strewn about the area. What was once the capital of one of the most powerful nations in the world was now nothing more than charred ruins. The War had killed most life in the area, however now that the majority of the radiation was gone and was only in certain pockets, live began to flourish outside of the Vaults once more. But even though The War was over, the Wasteland was still a very dangerous place. Mutated creatures were rampant, armed Raiders and gangs roamed at will, and stray explosives and other traps could lay under any stone. It was a dangerous place.
Alex walked through what was once a flourishing suburban neighborhood. Foundations of homes still lay where they had been placed centuries ago. Rubble lay about in man high piles. The sun was hotter than usual today, it must be at least 98 degrees. A gentle breeze tossed Alex's duster about playfully. His face was hidden behind a salvaged gas mask, his eyes were stone cold behind the red lenses of the mask. Rubble and stone bits crunched under his black combat boots. His assault rifle, a Pre-War AK47, was slung over his shoulder and bounced against his back gently with every step. Under his duster he wore a dirty t-shirt and dirtier camoflauge cargo pants, with pockets full of extra rounds for both his AK and his .357 revolver which sat snuggly in a hip holster. Besides his guns, Alex also carried with him a rough machete he made himself out of scrap metal. The blade was sharp enough to shave with, and was durable enough to cut through bone.
Alex had been walking for days, stopping only to eat and sleep. He had made his way from southern Pennsylvania. Sweat rolled down his back. He was tired and needed a safe place to rest for a few days. In distance he saw what was obviously a shanty town settled by survivors. He grinned. He knew that these kinda towns were always happy to see "Wasters" like him come into town. It meant more caps for them, and another person to force bad deals their way. Sometimes though, Alex didn't know what was more dangerous; the hordes of Raiders in the Wastes, or the merchants in these towns.
Outside of Vault 104
The summer sun beat down on the grayish brown ground. Evidence of lives before The War lay strewn about the area. What was once the capital of one of the most powerful nations in the world was now nothing more than charred ruins. The War had killed most life in the area, however now that the majority of the radiation was gone and was only in certain pockets, live began to flourish outside of the Vaults once more. But even though The War was over, the Wasteland was still a very dangerous place. Mutated creatures were rampant, armed Raiders and gangs roamed at will, and stray explosives and other traps could lay under any stone. It was a dangerous place.
Alex walked through what was once a flourishing suburban neighborhood. Foundations of homes still lay where they had been placed centuries ago. Rubble lay about in man high piles. The sun was hotter than usual today, it must be at least 98 degrees. A gentle breeze tossed Alex's duster about playfully. His face was hidden behind a salvaged gas mask, his eyes were stone cold behind the red lenses of the mask. Rubble and stone bits crunched under his black combat boots. His assault rifle, a Pre-War AK47, was slung over his shoulder and bounced against his back gently with every step. Under his duster he wore a dirty t-shirt and dirtier camoflauge cargo pants, with pockets full of extra rounds for both his AK and his .357 revolver which sat snuggly in a hip holster. Besides his guns, Alex also carried with him a rough machete he made himself out of scrap metal. The blade was sharp enough to shave with, and was durable enough to cut through bone.
Alex had been walking for days, stopping only to eat and sleep. He had made his way from southern Pennsylvania. Sweat rolled down his back. He was tired and needed a safe place to rest for a few days. In distance he saw what was obviously a shanty town settled by survivors. He grinned. He knew that these kinda towns were always happy to see "Wasters" like him come into town. It meant more caps for them, and another person to force bad deals their way. Sometimes though, Alex didn't know what was more dangerous; the hordes of Raiders in the Wastes, or the merchants in these towns.
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