Old Orleans, New Trouble: A Fallout Campaign (Inactive)

Game Master SinBlade06

As she gets closer to the source of the music, Lilith lets out a sigh of relief. "Good ol' fashion bluegrass. Reminds me of home a little."

As you get closer to the source of the music, the ranch that you were told about comes into view. There's a small fence around a fairly large plot of land, a run down barn off to the right, and a farmhouse front and center with two men on the front porch, picking at a banjo and guitar.

As you approach, you see that the banjo player is the older of the two musicians, well into his years. His hair is a silvery grey, a small goatee on his face, and a pair of overalls on the rest of him. His partner is a bit younger, around 20 or so in the same clothing scheme.

When you get close enough, the younger man looks over at you with a small smile, then his expression drops as he quickly grabs a lever action rifle from behind his chair, shouting "Tinny!" The older man does the same, both of them aimed right at Edward.

"Hold it right there, Tinny! You got five seconds to tell us what you want or we'll have another body to bury."

"Tinny" is a slang term for a Brotherhood of Steel member. Not everyone likes the Brotherhood, so this might get a little tense.

"I mean you no harm. I believe we have a letter addressed to someone who works here."

Edward keeps his hands open and away from is weapons. He also shows no fear or trepidation in the face of lever action firearms and banjos.

"We're looking for Granpappy." Crispy says in the usual gruff voice of a Ghoul.

Knives sheathed and partially hidden beneath the folds of his jacket, Marcel raises his hands and steps forward. "Easy; ignore the Tinny, he's just the muscle. I'm a trader-" Marcel calls out a few quick greetings in trader cant "-And like he says, we're just delivering a letter. I'll send the big man back if you want."

The older man eyes Edward, his rifle still raised, when he hears Crispy say who they're looking for.

"Fine, you found me. Now what do you want?"

Granpappy starts to lower his rifle, still at the ready but not aimed at anything in particular.

The younger man sidesteps closer to Granpappy, whispering something into his ear.

Crispy and the Tinny don't here what he's whispering.

Granpappy takes a step forward, rifle still ready. "Alright, you found me. Now what's this about a letter?"

Wordlessly Marcel takes the letter and delivers it to 'Granpappy'.

"Sir, I'm sorry to say this, but we found this on a body." says Crispy.

Granpappy takes the note quietly, opening the letter to read it. The younger man also reads the note, letting out a short gasp when hears about the corpse.

After a moment, he crumples up the note and tosses it away, looking down at the ground. "I need a minute. Jacob, answer their questions. I know they're no threat to us." Granpappy slowly walks into the house, the door closing behind him.

Jacob slings his rifle over his shoulder and comes down to meet you. "Sorry about the rifle. Can't be too cautious. My name's Jacob. I'm Vincent's brother...or...well..."

You can ask him anything you'd need or want to know about him, Granpappy, or whatever else comes to mind you think he may be able to help with.

"No harm done. One cannot be too careful out in the wasteland, after all. I take it Vincent and you were close? Why would he attempt larceny in Old Orleans? Hemust have known the penalty is death."

"You could say that. We were brothers. He was the one always getting into trouble, but whenever I was the one in trouble, he bailed me out."

He gets really confused when he hears Edward referring to Vincent's death. "Larceny? No, no he would never steal anything. If we found someone's stash out in the Marshes we'd put something of equal value back when we took something."

His expression changes from confusion to alarm. "Who shot him? Was it Brotherhood or someone else?"

He's expecting an answer, so don't leave him hanging.

all i know is that it was the guards, was it a particular group that i would have known?

"I don't know, but if there's anything you need us to do, we'll deal with it personally." Crispy says confidently.

"I am not to sure as I was in the bar at the time discussin manners with the bar tender.

"I was not present when he was shot, I only saw the aftermath. I do not know who fired upon him."

While talking, Edward detects evil and scans the fellows.

"We should move inside. I'll explain there. Come."

Jacob motions the party to move inside the farmhouse, taking a step inside.

Inside the farmhouse, it has all the furnishings of a well kept post apocalyptic abode. A ruined table, a fireplace, a few pictures here and there with the glass cracked, shattered, or missing entirely.

Jacob unslings his rifle and sets it up beside him as he sits at the table. There's plenty of room for everyone to sit. "Please, sit down, there's a lot to tell. Except for you Tin--I mean, Paladin. These chairs are kind of old, and I don't think they'll handle Power Armor."

After you're all seated, Jacob begins:

"I'm sure you've all heard the stories of how Old Orleans started. A safe haven for civilians during the nuclear war. And sure, that's most of it. Here's the part you didn't hear.

"Old Orleans has a secret underground ruling class. They call themselves the Children of the Sun, and they have a hand in literally everything Old Orleans does. Trade routes, commerce, even where the Super Mutants hold their blood sports. You name it, the Children have something to do with it.

"Originally, they worked more openly. The Brotherhood didn't like the idea that anyone should work under a monarchy, so the Children were overthrown. That was just about 80 years ago, when the radiation was safe enough for humans to live in.

"Me and Vincent had finally found evidence that they plan to rise up again and take control of Old Orleans. He split up so they wouldn't catch us, and if they did, the wouldn't know we both knew....I guess they found Vincent..."

He pauses for a moment, his face solemn as he remembers his brother has passed.

"Wait, I forgot about Lorry's gift. Wait here." He stands up and walks from the table, walking over to a cabinet, and pulling out a revolver. Not just any revolver, a .44 magnum, clean as the day it was made, a good sized scope fixed to the weapon with a clasp. This is truly a fine weapon.

"Here, I think it'd be best if you gave it to her yourselves. She's a bit of a gun nut, so I think she'll like it. You can find her out in the barn. Just knock before you enter."

He sets the gun on the table, then takes his seat. "I'm gonna wait for Granpappy. You uh, you should probably clear out though. We don't usually have visitors, and the ones we do are either trusted, tied up, or dead, and since you aren't any of those, you'd better git before you're one of the latter two."

You now have in your possession a +1 Scoped .44 Magnum. When damaged is rolled for this weapon, you roll one die separate. That die will bypass any DR the target may possess.

Quest Complete: A Lost Letter

Story Quest: Super Friends

The southern girl looks at the gun, and nods softly to the man without a word wondering what exactly they have gotten themselves into.

Marcel raises an eyebrow skeptically. "Firstly- why should this imminent 'uprising' concern us or anyone? Excepting our friend in the armor here, of course; Secondly- what proof do you have that this conspiracy even exists?"

"The Brotherhood, ghouls, and mutants have managed to get along for years now. A destabilizing presence in Old Orleans could prove disastrous. Do you truly wish our city to return to barbarism and chaos? "

To Jacob: "I am sorry for your loss. If you find yourself in the city and require aid, do not hesitate to call upon me. Ask for Brother Edward Monroe. "

"heh, yeah, i kinda like the civilized way we have come to do things. i certainly dont want to go back to chaos."

"I agree with my brother." says Crispy.

Jacob looks over at Marcel. "I suppose you wouldn't know, trader. All that matters to you is that you've got stock of supplies and caps in your pocket.

"But if you must know, the Children plan to take Old Orleans back into the dark ages. I mean the age of chivalry, knights of the realm and all that. Technology to them is a thing of the past. The War was enough to convince them that weapons are a bad thing. Their plan is to start with Orleans, then move to other locations. We're all lost of they succeed."

"As for proof, wait here." Jacob heads to a gun cabinet on the other side of the room, opening it with a key from his pocket, and throwing it open. "This proof enough for you?"

Inside the gun cabinet are no guns. Instead, you see swords, shields with a sun painted on them, daggers, bows and quivers of arrows, and an assortment of other weapons that belong in a museum. However, looking closer will show you that the weapons were hand forged, hammered into shape, and sharp as the day they were finished.

"My brother and I have been collecting weapons from them since we first found out about them. These weapons are sharper than anything I've ever seen. I've seen it go clean through Power Armor like a hot knife through butter, and they only seem to be stopped by armor made of the same stuff. Bullets don't work on these. We've tried everything from a .32 to a .308, and nothing. Not even a scratch."

He closes the cabinet, locking it and placing the key in his pocket. "If they know you know about them, you'll end up like Vinny. Keep this quiet, ya hear?"

He starts to head out, standing by the door. "If y'all have other questions, I'm here. Otherwise, you'd best be on your way." He then heads out to the porch. You can hear him strumming a few chords on his guitar.

The inhabitants of the house--Jacob, Granpappy, and your allies--are not evil.

Marcel sighs and shakes his head. "Madmen, the lot of them. 'Like a hot knife through butter'? Not even old-world tech had that ability. Let's get back to town; at least we got a good-quality weapon out of this."

Lilith eyes the weapon, Is there a way we can get something similar to that to use ourselves. Those would be very useful in fightin those people out in the waste.

I agree. An armor-rending melee weapon would prove most useful, especially in close quarters. Maybe you know where these blades are being forged?

Jacob is outside, so he doesn't hear your questions. If he could, he'd reply with the following:

"Using those weapons yourselves?...well...You brought news of my brother to me, so I owe you something in return..." He hands you the key to the safe. "I expect that back before you leave."

If you wish to take a weapon, you may add to your inventory any simple or martial weapon from the official weapons page that is made mostly, if not entirely, of metal. Things like a Quarterstaff or club don't count, but a longsword or a dagger does. These weapons have the custom quality "Post-War."

"If I knew where these weapons were forged I'd tell you. But honestly, I have have no idea."

Is there something similar to the great sword or bastard sword in there?

Edward will defer to Lilith over the largest blades. If she's taking the "greatsword" he will grab the "bastard sword" or "longsword" assuming one exists.

"Many thanks, Jacob. These will assist in the vanishing of evil and triumph of the righteous."

Edward hands him the key when done.

Still somewhat skeptical, Marcel doesn't miss the opportunity to take a tapered dagger from the closer and strap it to his belt with a nod of satisfaction.

Lilith will take a Great sword from the cabinet to replace her fire axe.

"Let's see... we have sword-wielding allies. All we need now is a dragon to slay!" Crispy says in a joking voice.

If there is a dragon, I swear I will be the first one heading north away from the thing.

dragon, deathclaw; potato, poTAHto

The Post-War items you took from the safe look and feel as if you have been transported back in time and given a weapon from a master blacksmith. There's plenty to choose from, so you each find something that fits your fancy.

Fast-Travel Montage later, you find yourselves back in Old Orleans, and boy is the city bustling. The vendors are out and you've got plenty of time to do what you think will prepare you best for meeting and performing the deeds asked of you by the Super Mutants.

Do some selling, buying, or re-equiping as you see fit. However, no one will buy your Post-War weapons, as it just seem silly to them.

After peeling off exclaiming a need to check market prices, Marcel returns to the group with an expression of intense irritation on his face. When asked, he refuses to explain further. Perception check DC 0 to notice his shiny new dagger is gone. Eventually, after much angry inner monologuing, he calms down. "Before we get back to doing errands for sane people- I want to check if that material can really get though Power armour. No fear, Sir Knight" he adds, raising his hands in supplication to Edward, "You will not need to sacrifice any of your girding." Heading for a market stall, Marcel looks to buy either a cast-off piece of old power armour or a slab of metal identical in hardness and thickness to power armour. That acquired, he borrows someone's new sword or knife and tries to stab through it.

Being somewhat of a hoarder (read: a huge hoarder), Scab won't sell anything but while the group is in the market he will peruse the wares to see if any good deals are to be found, and he can give advice to others in the party regarding things of his specialty.

To maybe find some good deals:
appraise: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16
perception or scavenging: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20

Scab can tell you that everyone in the main market is trying to swindle you out of your caps. The only good deals are the ones by the reputable salesmen in the larger stores.

Marcel manages to find a plasma burnt piece of a suit of power armor in the garbage outside the Brotherhood HQ.

Sure enough, with a good swing, the armor is cut clean in two. Not even plasma cutters used to make the armor cut that cleanly. After the cut they need to be smoothed and buffed to fit well, and the Post-War weapons cut through it better than the most advanced technology.

Needless to say, this is serious sh*t.

Marcel taps the flat of the blade thoughtfully before returning it to its owner. Turning to the party with an somewhat embarrassed expression, he speaks "Okay I may have been wrong about these blades; they do seem to do what was advertised... as to this revolution, I'm still not convinced. That said, however, I am convinced of one thing- we just got an instant back door to every building in the wasteland!"[/b] and finishes with a wide smile.

Across the market square, from McGrady's Bar, You hear a loud bluesy tune. When you turn and look, you see a bald man, skin leathered by the sun. His bald head is crossed with scars, though only one on his face, just under his left Green eye. He is currently sawing through some Old World blues on a harmonica (Think the intro to Roseanne). He is dressed in what lookes like thick rags, old and travel stained. He has a small pack beside him, stuffed full. Oddly enough, you can see no weapons, even here in Old Orleans.

For those of you who didn't know, Don is the newest member of your party. Interact, make nice, do whatever it is you party people do.

i gathered as much

"If i turned around every time i heard a bluesy harmonica, I'd never leave the market"

Since he has no reason to pay any attention to this harmonica-playing fellow- except to maybe should "Keep that racket down!"- Marcel completely ignores him.

Sorry for being difficult but I demand more before I'll start questioning some random passer-by :)
By the way, what quest shall we pursue now? Crab meat? Have we got anything we can do about this revolution?

"Hey, musician. Nice tunes."

Edward approaches the unarmed man. Helmet is off but armor is on, at least while in town.

"You new in town? It can get pretty tough around here, and a man without a gun I typically find sprawled out in the wasteland. A friend of mine can assist you if you need some hardware."

Don smiles at the large armored man. I have a rifle, if needs must, but not much reason to use it. I am a bounty hunter by trade, and low on work right now. At the mention of the rifle, Don moves his pack over, showing the rifle slung in a modified sling of what looks like duct tape, canvas, twine, and an old cloth belt.

"Oh. Might I ask how you hunt bounties without using a weapon? That would prove most useful, I must admit."

My hands are strong, friend. I am trained in, for lack of a better term, excessive hand-to-hand combat. I am also proficient with my rifle, though perhaps a little closer than is normal for marksman. Throughout the conversation Don gestures with his speech, possibly a nervous habit or just a quirk. Or maybe he just need something to do with his hands now that he is not playing.

Raising his head to see who on earth the group walking tank has began talking to, Marcel runs his eyes up and down this man, trying to judge if he is important or not.
Sense motive (hunch)- 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21

"That is most interesting. Perhaps you would be willing to instruct others in such hand to hand combat? My brothers and I would be most happy to learn such technique. I can assure you, we are no slouches when it comes to dedication and practice."

Don smiles and shrugs. I started 20 years ago to get where I am, but i suppose there is no time like the present. He extends his hand to the Knight-Brother. I am Don. My fellow hunters refer to me by some old world demon, He Who Walks Behind.

"Knight-Brother Edward Monroe. Pleased to meet you."