Fallout: The Savage Wasteland

Game Master thegreenteagamer

"Yeah, I figured paper money wouldn't be worth much anymore. I mean, we'd been off the Gold Standard for a while before the bombs, but there's no government to prop up its worth anymore." Spencer grabs a wad of cash and flips through it with his thumb. "I'll take your word that folks like it, just dunno why."

Frankly a question I've had in the games themselves. I could see turning them in to a collector like Abraham Washington in 3, but the fact that everybody just takes them as something valuable is a little strange.

The only explanation I can think of is that cotton is a rare and valuable commodity in and of itself nowadays, so even small amounts of it are worth grabbing. Comfortable underwear have to be an immense luxury in the post-apocalypse.

Rufus's grin is disturbing as he grabs a handful of the cash and inhales, smelling the distant but oh-so-familiar smell of riches he'll never forget.

"Well, damnit, you all are a crazy bunch, taking out deathclaws and charging head forth into giant ant nests, and whatnot, but it all paid off! Woo! You have no idea how much fun I'm gonna have when we get back to town."

The storm rages outside, and the building continues to waver from the wind, but you're almost positive it won't fall; it's taken centuries of storms before - what are the odds this will be the one that takes it down?

Fitz, just in case, remember that you have a new gun loaded with Supa Hot Plasma.

Marcus gets out of the power armor and stretches as he picks a cigarette and light it. "Maybe is the near death experience. Maybe the storm and threat of a cave in makes time seem to pass slow... but it felt like I haven't smoked in ages."
Addiction Roll: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 31d6 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8 Smokin' Hot Ace: 1d6 ⇒ 5
13. Once again it's demonstrated that Papa smokes because it makes him look even cooler.
"Well, Rufus, we earned it... just don't tell us what you gonna' expend your share on. Not even imply it, I don't want no nightmares for the rest of my life. Speaking of such, I'll take a nap 'til the wearher improves. Lil' Papa, take watch."

Lil' Papa moves to face the door and readies his las-hand. "Affirmative, sir. Starting watch routines. Pending time: 8 hours."

"Recalculating: Pending Time: 36 seconds."

"Recalculating: Pending Time: Not a Number."

"With all the ways to die in the wastes, I'm afraid I don't think I'll ever understand why you insist on seeking out another, Marcus."

As the night goes by, the storm rages on, but eventually, by around 3 in the morning or so, it comes to a calm, and all you hear is the general sound of rainfall. When the morning comes, the protectrons gather around. One of them buzzes off a communication. "Primary objective completed; serial killer eliminated and citizen safety ensured. Inclement weather delay passed. Returning to main base."

With that the bots start to amble off, and Papa can swear he sees tear drops in the protectron's glass dome, even though everyone else knows it's just the mist of the rain.

"Things are going to be a bit more dangerous without our robot shields."

"Ah, I wouldn't worry, too much. We're not that far from Dome. And we're armed to the teeth."

Mickey uses Papa's borrowed ripper to finish cutting off the head and arms of the deathclaw. This would serve as their proof that they killed the beast.

"Besides, I wanna bring this in before an odor sets in."

After Mickey finishes chopping up the Deathclaw for parts, the group takes to loading up the van with supplies. They make the trip back towards Dome, and by the time they arrive, even the rain from before seems to have passed. Most of the buildings from before seem in tact, and considering they're made from welded steel and leftover car parts set in poured concrete, it's not really much surprise.

Mags seems genuinely surprised to see you all, especially when you bring back the deathclaw body. "Well, if that ain't the craz'st thing I e'vr saw? You sure you don't wanna fight? We could make a kill'n off ya!" Assuming the party rejects as before, she shakes her head and comes to bring you money. Rufus, unsurprisingly bids you all a farewell, and starts to high-tail it towards the brothels of Dome. The looks of disgust on the women...and some of the men...as he approaches border on terror when he starts waving around his share of the pre-war cash.

Now that the storm is over, Marcus begins to fiddle with the dials on the radio, curious if the thing actually still works from before the war, he moves towards a channel he knows to be Brotherhood friendly, and as he's perusing through the stations, he suddenly picks up a familiar voice to the whole party. It sounds an awful lot like McMillian. "...group of former Vault 2 dwellers assisting us, but I am not sure how things are going to go over. No, I repeat, we cannot bring in a full assault, they have Brotherhood hostages, and I don't want to risk it. Coordinates are to follow, in case this goes south anyway, but please, give me 24 hours and then wipe this place out if you have to, but there are innocents there - not just the vault dwellers, but the rest of our squadron..."

The reply has considerably more static, as if the antennae transmitting the outgoing message was damaged from the storm. "...cannot hear coordinates...Paladin...repeat...immediate danger...can....to the first...repairs of storm...spare troops as a result...am...disengage..."

"Another group of exiles is still alive!" Fitz exclaims.

He rubs his chin after.

"Hm. Though perhaps not for long, from the sound of it. Someone write down those coordinates, I want to know how close we are to each other."

"But first, I need to do something about this." he thumps his dead arm.

"Such injuries can't be unheard of here in Dome. Perhaps they have a fix of some sort available? Cybernetics or similar."

Fitz begins a search for a relatively reputable doctor to fix his arm.

The sudden happiness of makin' the radio worksmake pass to alertness, as they hear the transmission "McMillan, you crazy sonuva... we need to help them. Boys, I know you may be tired of almost dyin' day after day, but if they have hostages and Vaulties there I need to go." says Marcus as he prepares his pack "I'll pick some things while Fitz patches up. We may need some extra punch this time."

Fusion core is going to be the difference between the salvaged and a T-45d armor...which is what your armor is...and salvaged. So about 2000 caps, but that includes revealing the helmet and tuning it up. Should take as long as Fitz's surgery...about 8 hours. You managed to find the parts you need for your weapon but not with enough time to craft it yet as you're refurbishing the armor during that time...if you succeed on a repair at -1

Gotta leave now, expect flavour text later! Yeeeeha, T-45d!

Repair Armor: 1d8 - 1 ⇒ (6) - 1 = 51d6 - 1 ⇒ (4) - 1 = 3

As Fitz leaves to check on a real good doctor, Papa disappesrs too.
An hour or so later he comes back with a large sword-like thing strapped to his back, carrying a bulky package that when unpackaged seems to be electronics parts, scrap metal, peeled wires and paint cans as well as a chainsaw and a cylinder labeled radioactive.

"Yo, I'll be busy most of the day, gotta try and do some stuff. Call me when Ironman returns"
Insert 80s montage here. Scene 1: Papa puts on his mechanic outfit and lights a cigarette. Scene w: He is seen stuffing every pocket with different tools and electronic parts. Scene 3: disco dancing interlude. Scene 4: T-45d helmet lights!

He spends the whole day working, a welder and wrench in his hand. Tinkering with the power armor he manages to turn it on, which prompts a victory dance from him and some laughs from the people who walk by.

By the time that Fitz comes back he is quickly devouring some jerk. With a nod he checks his bro is alright a and comes back to work.

Repair: 1d8 - 2 + 1 ⇒ (5) - 2 + 1 = 41d6 - 2 + 1 ⇒ (5) - 2 + 1 = 4
Holy crap... praise the sun for this. Close call

The Power Helmet providing illumination, Marcus starts to take apart the chainsaw, including the microbreeder as power supply. Using a plasma cutter he reduces the bumper sword and tests it, seeing that the balance seem to be a bit off... but once the chainsaw is addedand the pommel weighted, the "project" balance is perfect.

When the chainsword produces her first roar, a single tear deops from Marcus eye. "Is this what you feel when you become father?... I'll call you Maria, my precious little lady." he says, filled with proud, before embracing Morpheus with Maria still gripped tight.

Fitz, meanwhile, tracks down a doctor and explains what happened.

"So, I was wondering if you had some kind of fix...or at least a replacement, much as I am loathe to part with the appendage I was born with. I don't want to be a burden on my crew."

Fitz finds a human boy, possibly 13, 14...maybe a scrawny 15, wearing blood-spattered scrubs and a mask, with a Mr. Orderly robot in an RV that's been converted into a medical tent. Again, without them being gladiators, our heroes have to deal with freelancers trying to make a name for themselves, and the "doctor" here is clearly one of those. His voice squeaks as gloved hands push a mop of greasy blonde hair out of his face. "Hi there. Yeah, I can help you! I'm And...er...Doctor Andrew! This here is nurse Gia, say hi Gia!"

The Handy, in a voice that seems to be reprogrammed into that of a sultry woman, seems unsettling on the flying robot. "Hello."

The kid smiles at Fitz's request, and scratches his chin, with it's all of three whiskers he stubbornly refuses to pluck or cut. "Oh, yeah, sure, Gia and I can handle that. No problem. I've done, like, four of those."

The Handy quickly interjects. "Sir, that was under the observation and tutilidge of Dr. Nicholas, and, really, you just held down the..."

"Shut up, Gia! Go...go sterilize the tent!"

"Er, um...yes, sir."

"Yeah, so, I'll have you good to go with a new arm in no time, mist..er...buddy. Just pay Gia, she handles the cash, on account of I can't carry a gun, would, you know, get the hands dirty, and oh, if you try to rob us, she's gonna turn you into a pile of green goo, which is a pain to clean, so I'm gonna just warn you of that upfront. Do you want it, like, painted? Or is gunmetal gray okay for you? I think I've got a yellow one back there somewhere..." he mutters, and starts to dig around in the storage compartment of the RV, and then, noticing he's ruining the gloves, mutters about contamination, takes them off, and throws them to the Handy, who proceeds to 'sterilize' them with her flamer.

Mickey counts off the "money" to fix the van and hands it to the mechanic.

"We need her up and running ASAP. Looks like we got another job."

Mickey then goes off to buy some basic supplies. He doesn't think he'll need much in the way of weapons or armor until he comes across a grenade launcher.

A weapon that "launched" grenades? His mind was blown. He put down the money for it without the bother of haggling. Didn't matter what they wanted for it, he was happy to pay.

When he had the wrapon in his hands he smiled like a maniac.

"Ah, yes, gunmetal is...fine." Fitz says, a little uneasy now.

But he's my only option...

"Do it as soon as possible, please. I have matters of some urgency to attend to."

"I'll hopefully have time to modify it to my own specifications later."

"Doctor" Andrew preps Fitz for surgery and puts the gas on his face, telling him to count back from 100. The last thing Fitz can hear before fading out is the boy talking to his robot.

"Wait, you're sure it's a left bionic arm we have in stock, right?

I'm trying to give Niles a chance to show up with his new character but I haven't heard him since I last mentioned to you guys in the discussion thread - he may be doing something for Memorial Day; I believe he's in the military.

Mags takes the cash from Mickey and smirks. "I'll have her up and running before your friends are done with their shopping."

When Fitz wakes up he feels like all the weight he's been carrying from his left arm is completely gone. As the drugs start to wear off he thinks there must have been an issue, as he has zero physical sensation in his left arm, and maybe he woke up after the amputation and before the implantation...then he tries to move his left arm and he feels nothing, but the soft hum of hydraulics is music to his ears, and as his vision clears up and he looks to the left he can see it moving from his mental commands.

It's a weird experience, and one he's going to have to get used to, since it moves and responds exactly like a real hand, but he can't physically feel anything through it. It's strange, touching his old fingers to his new, having no sensation other than a simple knowledge of pressure from his organic hand.

Doctor Andrew is grinning from ear to ear, and Nurse Gia the Handy is the first to speak up. "I guess I owe you 200 caps, sir. He is alive." The kid seems like he's trying his darndest not to laugh.

I imagine it would feel the same as a paralyzed arm, wouldn't it? Feeling on the shoulder and pressure, but non eon the actual appendage.

Fitz tries to get up, slipping as he puts weight on his new appendage and overshoots how much pressure he needs to apply.

"Thank you, Doctor Andrew. Your work is, ehm, as good as I'd hoped. I must admit your lack of experience worried me at first."

"Perhaps an odd question but...what did you do with the 'leftover material'?"

"Um...Well, you didn't say you needed it, and...ahem...you know, keeping prices down by recycling, and the kitchen will pay...look, just don't eat the cheap soup at the inn. I still have it, though. I was gonna send Gia down with the scraps later, but I mean, if you need it for, uh, sentimental reasons, I can let you take it. They only give us like two caps a pound for leftovers anyway."

The pause is uncomfortable, and Andrew speaks up again. "Some people won't even feed their slaves if it costs too much. Protein is protein, and I'm pretty sure they mix it with radroach or something like that to keep prion transmission down. It's like a cap a bowl, and it fills people up. I...don't like it, but at least they aren't starving."

His face turns a bit red. "I'm trying to earn enough to buy some slaves freedom and train them as nurses. I can't fix the town but maybe we can save a few."

Gia chimes in, "Yes, doctor, and you have no ulterior motives at all.", suddenly in a perfectly recorded voice of Andrew, Gia continues, "...and if one of them is a particularly beautiful woman who wants to shower me with sexual gratitude that's all the more icing on the cake." Dr. Andrew's face is now beet red, and if a robot could grin, you'd swear Gia would be. "I wouldn't make her. I can dream, can't I?" he mutters under his breath, complete with a few choice words about the robot. "Gonna replace you with sexy nurses you stupid bucket of bolts."

"I...see. No, I suppose I don't need it."

"How much do you need to free a slave?"

"Depends on the slave, really. They're valued based on their use and how much money they can make their owners. Particularly smart or strong slaves can be in the tens of thousands if not more. I have a lot of overhead, though, as the RV and Gia require maintenance, and sterilization and supplies and stuff. I almost have enough to make a bid, though."

"Well, I wish you luck. Perhaps I can help, just a bit? If you have any supplies I can take off your hands, perhaps?"

"Yeah, a few I can spare."

You can buy med supplies with a 10% discount due to your rapport you built up with Dr. Andrew. Still waiting on either of our delayed players... holding up the other game now, too...

"I'll take some Stimpaks and Radaway, for just in case measures."

4 Stimpaks, 5 Radaway.

"Thank you for all your help, Dr. Andrew. I hope your dream comes true. Now, I must be going. There are more people from my Vault to meet!"

To expedite the purchase process, I also want to purchase a Plasma Rifle. And sell off my trusty Laser Rifle and Laser Pistol, unless Marcus still plans to use the former.

I'll save the rest of my money for special projects. Deathclaw Gauntlet on the right, Plasma Fist on the left!

Those purchases done, I rejoin the others.

"It's nice to have use of an arm again, but the feeling is so very odd. I wonder if there's a way to link it to my brain more fully, add pressure sensors. Maybe a fleshy coating, hm? For now, I suppose long sleeves and a glove will have to do."

Marcus is okay with you selling the rifle if he can keep either his Laser Pistol or the Plasma Pistol until you build the Plasma Fist. Actually, he is keeping his Laser Pistol anyway, because you are selling yours, so go ahead.

.

Any who continue to listen to the Brotherhood channel on the van radio soon hear a broadcast coming out. "This is Phillip Morgan, Senior Paladin of squadron 47-BX94. Emergency situation resolved. Repeat - emergency situation resolved. No casualties; minimal injuries and equipment compromise. Incoming for debriefing."

Message to Knight Edwards: Your serial number and this month's transmission code have been given to a group of vault exiles looking to reunite with compatriots in your presence. Respond with location when contacted. Class B allies to be trusted. If base antennae has been repaired, please note Paladin MacMillian has been absolved of command due to repeated insubordination. Do not, I repeat, do not accept incoming transmissions from him."

The reply from the main base is still broken and unclear, as they haven't fully repaired the radio antennae, but you pick up "...frimative...debrief...Rgan....Knight Edw...(minutes of static)...bot model EH-...your location."

Query: Are you Knight Edwards? a strange looking robot says walking towards Marcus.

Marcus tries to answer the radio "Copied, sir. Will drive over there as soon as possible, my own vaulties got some injuries that we are fixin'." but when the assaultron arrives he goes quiet and eyes the bot with a wide grin "I prefer Marcus or Big Papa, but whatever floats your boat, friendo. Hold tight." he says as he circles, probs and touches the bot completely ignoring that fact that if it were a human this would look... creepy "An Assaultron model! *whistles* fancy army model, not common... not at all. Which alloy are you made of? I betcha is titanium and aluminium with carbon fiber or some other fancy s*!!. Anyway, whatcha want?"

...When they all are gathered...
"I don't like this s@@+ bout Mac. He's a good man. He's my man. I will try to contact him as soon as I can and find out this s###, you with me? I'll need your magic fingers Fitz, try to see id you can secure me a transmission to hit on Mac." he says handling him the Helmet.

Disgusted Sigh: Must you touch me. EH-RK says without inflection or movement.

Repeat Query: Are you Knight Edwards? the robot says, with all the patience of a being that has been around for a very long time.

Marcus sighs too "Knight Marcus Edwards. Report?"

"Agreed. I like Mac."

Fitz sciences with the comms.

Science: 1d4 ⇒ 4
Wild: 1d6 ⇒ 4

Ace!: 1d4 ⇒ 4
Ace!: 1d4 ⇒ 3

That transmission better come in clear as a bell.

Official Sounding Voice: Knight Edwards! Great to meet you. I was told you have Communist targets that I might eviscerate. the Assaultron voice emits without moving.

Mickey walks up with his new toy. "You'll never gonna believe this, guys. I found this gun that -- get this -- "launches" grenades. This is the most ridiculously destructive thing I've ever seen, and--"

Mickey pauses when he notices the robot.

"Uh, new friend?"

Once Mickey is filled in...

"Figures. We meet someone trying to help and they get the shaft. I ain't standing for it. Let's get our crew and our gear, mount up and ride hell bent for leather."

Fitz realizes by messing with the radio on the van, which is not a two-way communicator, and both he and Marcus seem silly trying to reply on an incoming-only machine, that it's not a problem of your antennae receiving input from the Brotherhood, but the fact that THEIR antennae is busted.

You were simply overhearing a broadcast between a Senior Paladin and the base, and they assumed Marcus was somewhere to hear it. That being said, Fitz's repeated science explosion lets him finangle with the PipBoy enough where he thinks he can pick up the beacon signal of the Senior Paladin's broadcast based on the source, and that he can probably triangulate their location on the PipBoy's map.

It looks like the signal is coming from Southwest - looking over the PipBoy's maps, using the now fully fixed up van, you can probably make it there in about five hours - but you're gonna have to drive relatively close to Miami, which you know is a VERY hot area, radiation-wise, before you cut straight west. Everyone will make two radiation resistance rolls except the robot who is immune

"Perhaps we should purchase a two-way radio, hm? It will make it easier to communicate. And by easier, I mean possible."

After a long night of working on his mechanical child with only a little sleep, Marcus is too tired to think properly and simply puts a bunch o'caps on Fitz hand -500- to buy the radio and goes to lay in the back of the Van, complete with power armor, to sleep the travel away.

Radiation #1: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 91d6 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6
Ace: 1d8 ⇒ 8
Ace: 1d8 ⇒ 3
First radiation roll: 20. Passed and 4 raises... do I get superpowers?

Radiation #2: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 31d6 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5

As EH-RK travels with the group he makes odd statements like

Reflection:Communism is a plague upon humanity.

Resolution:The blood of my enemies makes excellent lubricant.

Resigned Sigh: This method of travel is far from efficient.

You can't sleep in power armor. That's ridiculous. Well not enough to remove fatigue. I'll continue on but still need a pair of rolls from the others. Gonna send another PM to Spencer. He said he'd be back from his trip the 1st.

Fitz picks up the CB radio for Marcus and the party loads up in the van, heading towards the spot triangulate on the map. It's the first time they've headed towards Miami since the exile, and somewhere on the edge of your psyche you know Vault 2 is out there.

EH-RK, being the only other individual besides Marcus who knows how to drive, is behind the wheel, his complaints your only change in sound effect from wind.

Now you turn off the major highways and start to head west, and the roads become even more broken than the interstate was, if such a thing is possible, and you can see swampland around, particularly to the south. The triangulated signal leads you to to a pile of rubble.

It looks like the building was once a road side gas station, but rather small, and the place looks wrecked.

I figured so, but had to try. Should I assume I sleeped outside of it or that I tried but couldn't? I am fine with both.And I will wait to post til the rest post, don't want to hold the action for myself alone.
Notice: 1d4 ⇒ 11d6 ⇒ 3

Vigor: 1d6 ⇒ 2
Wild: 1d6 ⇒ 5

Vigor: 1d6 ⇒ 4
Wild: 1d6 ⇒ 1

Looks like two successes, so very good.

Notice: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7
Wild: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7
Ace!: 1d6 ⇒ 4

"This gas station shouldn't have been smashed so easily. What could have possibly torn this structure down? If only Spencer wasn't taking such a long nap, I'd like to know where these tracks go, if only to avoid them..."

Untrained Survival: 1d4 - 2 ⇒ (3) - 2 = 1
Wild: 1d6 - 2 ⇒ (5) - 2 = 3

As they near Miami, Mickey sighs and pops a Rad-X pill. He hopes it'll do something. Chems worked funny on him sometimes.

Need to make a vigor check to see if the chem kicks in. 3 Rad-X left.

Vigor: 1d8 ⇒ 2
Wild: 1d6 ⇒ 6; Success.

That succeeds. I'm not going to bother rolling more. That gives me a +2 to rad checks.

Vigor Rad Resist #1: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
Wild: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7; Success.

Vigor Rad Resist #2: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
Wild: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3; Critical Fail.

I don't remember if I'm allowed to spend a benny on a crit fail in this game. I'm gonna go ahead and do it. If it's not kosher, just tell me what happens, GM. 2 bennies left. +2 from Elan.

Vigor Rad Resist #2: 1d8 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 + 2 = 10
Wild: 1d6 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 + 2 = 8; Success.

That succeeds. I hope.

Mickey rubs his stomach. He feels a little funny, but he decides to ignore it for now.

"I can give it a go. Pull over and keep an eye on me."

Mickey walks out, once the car has stopped, and examines the area.

Survival: 1d4 ⇒ 2
Wild: 1d6 ⇒ 1

He scratches his head, and shrugs. "I got nothing. Anyone else wanna give it a shot?"

Marcus exits the van and puts the power helmet on "Why not?" I may even find something."

Survival: 1d4 - 2 ⇒ (2) - 2 = 01d6 - 2 ⇒ (6) - 2 = 4
Acing: 1d6 ⇒ 5
Even a raise. What a time to be alive!

The steel juggernaut crouches and touches the ground, passing his fingers over the tracks. "Funny. The rad must be cooking my head 'cuz I think I can follow this..."

Tracks going in multiple directions... could you elaborate please? Like, are them all human? Are there any of them deeper than the others, like the ones a man wearing power armor would leave?

I didn't elaborate because I was waiting to see how well you did ;-) yeah you can Benny crit fumbles.

Marcus isn't much of a tracker, but he knows power armor footprints when he sees them. It looks like two sets of armor headed northeast from here with three sets of regular human tracks - that about accounts for the size of Mac's squad, given what you all remember, although it would mean half lost their armor. Another set of probably mutant tracks along with humans approaches here from the northwest and seems to follow a set of older human sized tracks south.

The southern tracks move towards a thick tree lined swamp, where the mutants and some of the humans seem to turn and head back northwest, while about five humans go deeper into the swamp. You're pretty sure the van will not continue into there, given it's knee high water and thick trees for a while.

By the time you get to the edge of the swamp before the water and heavy treeline, your PipBoy seems to pick up a settlement nearby and it indicates another PipBoy device is within a couple miles into the swamp. It is about 6am by this point (assuming you all left ASAP) so there is some light breaking through the treeline.

Spencer spends a great deal of the way back to the Dome gingerly touching his wounds, doing his best to make it through the bumpy ride without moaning too much. When the group gets back to the settlement, his first stop is a medical supply vendor, where he purchases a pair of stimpaks and injects them with a sigh of relief. After that, he does a fair amount of shopping, both upgrading his arsenal as well as purchasing some general odds and ends and supplies for the group...

Upon rejoining the others, Spencer quickly catches up on the radio developments, but he seems less unnerved by the group's new companion than might be expected. If anyone asks him about it, he touches his side and grimaces. "Guess there are worse things to be afraid of."

On the ride to Miami, Spencer ends up taking a nap to finish recovering from his injuries. The stimpaks work wonders on stopping bleeding and hurrying the actual healing process itself, not to mention numbing the pain, but it still took a lot out of him. He rolls a few times in his sleep, fitful dreams filled with torrents of rain, dramatic lightning, driving winds, and silhouettes he can't quite identify.

Vigor 1: 1d8 ⇒ 2 Wild: 1d6 ⇒ 3 Bah. Ah well.
Vigor 2: 1d8 ⇒ 4 Wild: 1d6 ⇒ 3

He doesn't start glowing, although by the time he wakes up, Spencer does feel a little uncomfortable as some light radiation sickness settles in. He groggily rubs his eyes and looks around. "What's going on?"

Notice: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7 Wild: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5

Although he doesn't pick up on the recency of the station's destruction, Spencer does notice the tracks, and he slowly gathers his belongings and steps down out of the van shortly behind Papa. The Knight's eyes are keen as his mind, though, and Spencer can't add anything to what he's found. "Nice going. We'll make a scout out of you yet, eh?" Spencer nods to the man.

Tracking the footprints to the swamp edge, Spencer squats down and rubs his neck, gazing off into the swamp. The PipBoy alert all but settles things. "We've gotta go in there, find out what's going on. Either these are our friends and we can just link up, or they might be in trouble, depending on these mutant tracks and what kind of settlement's up there."