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Here it is... I've posted it on so when you're ready just join. Any one can join in by the way.
The Slave Masters.
The clouded horizon, smog ridden and rusty almost looks unhealthy to even glance at. The post-nuclear smog parts as the hum-vee drags itself and it's crew towards the clouded outpost. The outpost is very porcupine, there's antennas littering higher levels of the military-made buildings. The hum-vee pulls itself through into the facility as the intimidating black steel doors slam behind the stump vehicle.
No one walks the dusty streets during the night except these individuals. Tall and dark they marched to one of the hanger-like buildings.
The re-enforced door slammed almost to attention as the party of five rangers all adorning green assault armour and carrying H&K P90c's entered.
The lead man threw down his weapon but it was cushioned by the nearby clattered office desk. After pinning in some digits in his Pip-boy he removed his helmet. His brown hair was long and scraggy after being clambered into the visored assault helmet.
The other four men seemed to be hero-entranced as if this ranger was their idol. He had all the marks of an experienced outdoors man, he had the stamina and the agility of a well-tuned athlete and his expression was of a watchful nature, he was also an intellect and judging from the books littering his desk labelled "Ranger Ulrich Cougar", Cougar was a lover of literature from before the war.
The other desks that were just as cluttered were labelled in the same manner, "Ranger Conrad Epsilon", "Ranger Joshua Cobalt", "Medic Carlson ‘Glass Jaw' Ferric" and "Ranger Louis Dawson".
Cobalt was rich-chocolate skinned and his dread locked hair ran down his back like a tar waterfall. He looked like he could stop a train with his arms while Glass Jaw was the complete opposite, he was the weedy intellect of the group, his short cut hair and small specs indicated that he would be the perfect role as a doctor for the five men strong ranger party.
Epsilon looked tall and skinny yet his amazing luck and agility had got the team out of some sticky situations in the past. Dawson was the teams search coordinator, it was his job to make sure the team gets to their mission check points, he wasn't their commander but he was a good public speaker, a diplomat. All in all this ranger party was family, their job was to stop the mass of slave traders in east America, their headquarter's a secret to only but a few and their strength, feared by the slavers.
They also tackled raider problems and have casually helped caravan merchants travel from place to place.
It was morning now and the furious smog storm had finally settled. Cougar was outstretched at his desk while Cobalt was piecing together his H&K P90c, his favourite past time was to take apart his weapons and time himself putting them back together again.
Cougar looked up as Dawson clomped into the office.
"You look like a mole-rat's bit you on the ass, Louis!" joke Cougar as he bellowed.
Cobalt had finally finished and watched Dawson pace the room.
"The damn New Reno delivery is late!" He shouted in worry. It was obvious that this man was well-organised, the sort of person who would always carry a pen.
"Give a day or two and they'll be here." Calmed the deep voice of Cobalt.
"It is unlike them I suppose?" questioned Cougar.
Dawson looked more worried by Cougar's remark.
Like a week of Sundays, the days that past were tiresome and uneventful. The truth was that the New Reno delivery was needed for the rangers to continue their work, they had minimal supplies and even minimal patience.
Dawson gathered the team round the conference-like table, himself was seated at the front like a true commander. Glass Jaw was round back refilling empty stimpacs with his own make-shift serum.
"The New Reno delivery has now been four days late and with them..." Dawson puffed, "Without them we're helpless, we're running low on 10mm's and stimpacs." He looked at the rangers as if he needed inspiration to finish his sentence. "So I suggest he travel along the caravan route and hopefully find out what's happened to the missing caravans."
Cougar loaded his bulky pistol with his rationed 10mm's as the rest of the rangers loaded themselves into their 20th Century vehicle in the hope of finding the lost caravans.
The Slave Masters.
The clouded horizon, smog ridden and rusty almost looks unhealthy to even glance at. The post-nuclear smog parts as the hum-vee drags itself and it's crew towards the clouded outpost. The outpost is very porcupine, there's antennas littering higher levels of the military-made buildings. The hum-vee pulls itself through into the facility as the intimidating black steel doors slam behind the stump vehicle.
No one walks the dusty streets during the night except these individuals. Tall and dark they marched to one of the hanger-like buildings.
The re-enforced door slammed almost to attention as the party of five rangers all adorning green assault armour and carrying H&K P90c's entered.
The lead man threw down his weapon but it was cushioned by the nearby clattered office desk. After pinning in some digits in his Pip-boy he removed his helmet. His brown hair was long and scraggy after being clambered into the visored assault helmet.
The other four men seemed to be hero-entranced as if this ranger was their idol. He had all the marks of an experienced outdoors man, he had the stamina and the agility of a well-tuned athlete and his expression was of a watchful nature, he was also an intellect and judging from the books littering his desk labelled "Ranger Ulrich Cougar", Cougar was a lover of literature from before the war.
The other desks that were just as cluttered were labelled in the same manner, "Ranger Conrad Epsilon", "Ranger Joshua Cobalt", "Medic Carlson ‘Glass Jaw' Ferric" and "Ranger Louis Dawson".
Cobalt was rich-chocolate skinned and his dread locked hair ran down his back like a tar waterfall. He looked like he could stop a train with his arms while Glass Jaw was the complete opposite, he was the weedy intellect of the group, his short cut hair and small specs indicated that he would be the perfect role as a doctor for the five men strong ranger party.
Epsilon looked tall and skinny yet his amazing luck and agility had got the team out of some sticky situations in the past. Dawson was the teams search coordinator, it was his job to make sure the team gets to their mission check points, he wasn't their commander but he was a good public speaker, a diplomat. All in all this ranger party was family, their job was to stop the mass of slave traders in east America, their headquarter's a secret to only but a few and their strength, feared by the slavers.
They also tackled raider problems and have casually helped caravan merchants travel from place to place.
It was morning now and the furious smog storm had finally settled. Cougar was outstretched at his desk while Cobalt was piecing together his H&K P90c, his favourite past time was to take apart his weapons and time himself putting them back together again.
Cougar looked up as Dawson clomped into the office.
"You look like a mole-rat's bit you on the ass, Louis!" joke Cougar as he bellowed.
Cobalt had finally finished and watched Dawson pace the room.
"The damn New Reno delivery is late!" He shouted in worry. It was obvious that this man was well-organised, the sort of person who would always carry a pen.
"Give a day or two and they'll be here." Calmed the deep voice of Cobalt.
"It is unlike them I suppose?" questioned Cougar.
Dawson looked more worried by Cougar's remark.
Like a week of Sundays, the days that past were tiresome and uneventful. The truth was that the New Reno delivery was needed for the rangers to continue their work, they had minimal supplies and even minimal patience.
Dawson gathered the team round the conference-like table, himself was seated at the front like a true commander. Glass Jaw was round back refilling empty stimpacs with his own make-shift serum.
"The New Reno delivery has now been four days late and with them..." Dawson puffed, "Without them we're helpless, we're running low on 10mm's and stimpacs." He looked at the rangers as if he needed inspiration to finish his sentence. "So I suggest he travel along the caravan route and hopefully find out what's happened to the missing caravans."
Cougar loaded his bulky pistol with his rationed 10mm's as the rest of the rangers loaded themselves into their 20th Century vehicle in the hope of finding the lost caravans.
