Lanius is a total badass. In my opinion, he's one of the three biggest badasses in the Wasteland, right after the Courier and the Lone Wanderer. I've always wondered what it would be like if the Lone Wanderer just up and headed off to the Mojave Wasteland, and then this little thought of the Wanderer and Lanius sharing a drink popped into my mind.

Although I do know that alcohol is forbidden in the Legion, that little tidbit is explained. I really do appreciate a lot of the lore, though I'm not sure if that is a fantasy genre only term, in Fallout. It really adds to the whole ambiance of the universe, and Caesar's Legion, savage as it is, really works to the series' benefit I think. It's conflicting. On one hand I really like the whole Roman theme, and they are in fact an army filled with badasses, but on the other they are a bit too brutal, even for me. Most of the time I settle for New Vegas independence, but not before killing both Caesar and President Kimball. I'm a nice guy like that.

Quote of the day:

Genghis: Remember the name of Jelaudin, Kublai. He was a strong enemy.

Kublai: That is a good thing.

Genghis: Even enemies can have honour. His father was fortunate to have such a son. Remember this day and perhaps in time you will make your own father proud.

— Bones of the Hills

He had slaughtered thousands, he was one of the most feared men in both the East and the West, he was the newest God King of Caesar's Legion, he was a warrior, he was the Monster of the East, but despite all of that, Lanius had never had a beer before.

Time had gotten the better of Lanius ever since the Courier had won the Second Battle for Hoover Dam. Regrettably, he had been convinced by the New Vegas king that the Legion would not have been able to hold both the East and the West at the same time, but now years after New Vegas continued to shine with the never ending hum of a thousand glittering lights, the Courier being the brightest of them all, Lanius only felt more and more disillusioned with the Legion he lead, and with the actions his Legion took.

It had been a few weeks since he had told his Legion elite that he would be off on a secret mission of sorts, and even though Lanius was sure that Vulpes and his frumentarii were watching him from the shadows, as was the way of cowards, he had thrown off his armor and his other markings of the Legion, including his legendary mask, to simply live as a profligate would. It had been different than his life as a tribal before the Hidebarks had been conquered by his predecessor, yet even more of a far cry from his life as Legate and Caesar, and even though Lanius felt that maybe he had seen all there was to see considering how a Wastelander would live, there was something inside of him, a feeling both tribal and primitive, that told Lanius that perhaps there was still yet more for him to discover out there in the Wastes before he returned to his Legion.

The tribal feeling, or so Lanius felt, had been ignited within him during one of his walks throughout the Mojave when he had randomly crossed paths with a town named Goodsprings, which he knew as the place where the Courier had risen from the dead. The name of the town had been written on one of the signs of the highway he had been walking that day, and when he had gotten into viewing distance with what Goodsprings had to offer, Lanius felt as if something there was pulling him in. In all honesty it didn't look like Goodsprings had very much to show for it at all, but there was something in the beating of his heart, like the beating of the tribal drums from his childhood, that told him that there something in Goodsprings that he had to see before leaving the town.

As he walked into the town, nobody there payed him much mind, all of the different profligates seeming to be preoccupied with whatever it was that they were doing. Only two people got his attention as he made his way to what looked like the local bar of the town, a place called the Prospector Saloon. The first was a black man, a distinction that didn't quite matter anymore since after the apocalypse race wasn't really an issue, and the other was a ghoul who was sitting right outside of the saloon, looking as if he was begging for money. The black man kept his eyes on Lanius, though Lanius ignored both him and the ghoul as he then entered the saloon, the tribal drums beating all the while.

He looked around the quiet bar, the quiet being something that Lanius could appreciate, and he took the first empty spot, of which there were many, that he saw. Besides the barkeep there were only two other living things in the bar at the moment, a young man a few seats down from him and a dog that was resting at said young man's feet.

"What'll you have?" the barkeep asked Lanius as he sat down.

He thought for a moment since he actually didn't know what a good drink would be. His tribe had been conquered when he was young, and after that Caesar had brought him into the Legion where he had embraced Caesar's teachings and will. Alcohol was new to him, it was something strange that he had never known, and so after another moment he decided that something simple would be best. "Beer."

"Don't like the stronger stuff, eh?" the man a few chairs down from Lanius spoke, drinking what was apparently a stronger spirit.

Lanius frowned, but then nodded his thanks to the barkeep when she brought him a beer. After a sip and a frown at the taste, he looked back over at the young man with the dog. "I'm not much of a drinker."

"I've never been much of one either," the young man conceded before continuing on, "although when I was younger, my friend Amata and I used to sneak some of her dad's whiskey when we thought that we could get away with it. Not sure if that counts for anything or not?"

He thought for a moment of what to say, but then Lanius decided that in the end it didn't really matter. "I'm sure that it does."

The young man frowned at him, and sat up straighter than he already was. He looked down at the dog that was resting at his feet, and then he looked back at Lanius. "I'm sorry, buddy, am I bothering you?"

"I have things on my mind," was Lanius' response. His current mission was to live as a profligate would, and if that meant making small talk with every Wastelander that came his way, then so be it.

"Like what?" the young man questioned as he began relaxing in his chair again.

Lanius took another drink of his beer, hoping that perhaps it would taste better than when he first started, but it still had a bitter flavor to it. He thought for a second on how to respond the profligate, and shrugged as he figured that a kernel of truth wouldn't hurt. "New Vegas."

At that the young man perked up and smiled. "Have you been there? I'm actually on my way over there right now."

Lanius looked at him skeptically. "Planning on making it rich?"

"Actually, I'm planning on meeting somebody named the Courier."

The skeptical look turned into a more suspicious look, and Lanius began to study the young man to see who he truly was if he was heading off to New Vegas for the purpose of meeting the Courier. He knew that the young man wasn't Legion, he would have known about the mission otherwise, but there was something about him, perhaps the carefree manner that the young man carried himself with, that told Lanius that he wasn't NCR either.

"If you want to kill him," Lanius began, "you're going to have to get past the Legion first. I hear they're planning on crucifying him."

"Don't worry, buddy, I don't want to kill him," the young man helpfully chirped, "I've heard a lot of good things about this guy, and I really admire what he's done. Think about it, a city free of oppressive governments like the Legion or the NCR. They might be after the guy, but I feel like he's given people something even more important than independence."

The skeptical look returned to Lanius' face since he had always been aware that things like 'freedom' and 'equal rights' were important to profligates. Especially since to his knowledge those concepts were more important to profligates than duty, order, and civilization were. "And that is?"

"Hope."

Had he been a profligate he probably would have rolled his eyes at that comment, but Lanius was the Caesar, the God-King, of the Legion. His response was fierce, and spoken with perhaps a twinge of pride. "Hope didn't win him Hoover Dam or New Vegas. His guns did that for him, and it's only a matter of time before the Courier's Vegas falls to the NCR or the Legion, or at least becomes like one of them."

"That might be true," the young man agreed, "but even so, I want to see if I can help him fight the good fight."

"The good fight?" Lanius questioned, never having heard that term before.

"It's a saying back home. It means like doing the best thing you can do to help others. Whether it's gunning down some raiders or slavers, or just giving some water to a thirsty guy that needs it. That's what the good fight is all about."

"Why?"

The young man's reply was immediate. "Because it's the right thing to do."

'The right thing to do' was a phrase that Lanius knew was used mostly by the corrupt. Whether it was a politician of the NCR trying to gather support and votes for the next election, or even the people in his own Legion that unleashed the brutality of things like slavery on the Wasteland, most of the time the 'right thing' was just a lie. There was only one other person whom Lanius had ever met that used that phrase in complete sincerity, and it was the same man who was the only one worthy of his respect. As he thought of the Courier, he wondered if perhaps this young man carried the same worth as did the King of New Vegas.

"Have you ever killed a man? Because on this side of the Wasteland, that's what the fight is all about. There is no good fight, and there is no bad fight. Here in the Mojave there is only one thing, and that is testing your courage and strength against the might of the Courier."

"I've killed a lot of people," the young man finally said after a moment of silence, "More than I like to admit."

Lanius snorted. "Then you aren't so pure yourself."

"I never said I was."

"Indeed."

Things became quiet once more, except for the radio that the barkeep was doing her best to listen to, considering she was trying not to eavesdrop on their conversation. Lanius said nothing more, assuming the conversation to have ended, but then began listening to the young man when he continued to speak.

"Most of the people I've killed were for self-defense or for the greater good, but there was one time that I actually murdered somebody out of hatred. For no other reason, just hatred."

He looked at him for a second, Lanius not quite sure what to make of the young man, before he decided out of curiosity to ask who it was that he slew. "Who was it?"

"A woman named Anna Holt. I won't get into the details, but she was unarmed and telling me that I needed to get to a safer place. She betrayed my father and everything he ever worked and sacrificed himself for. Everything that had happened up until that point flashed before my eyes, and before I knew it I was standing over her dead body, shooting at her severed head until it was nothing but a handful of meat."

He nodded, the young man gaining a bit of his respect, "There is nothing more honorable than avenging your people."

Instead of agreeing, the young man shook his head. "And there is nothing more cowardly than murdering someone, no matter how guilty of something they are."

"You avenged your father."

"And I'm sure that I've disappointed him as well."

Fantastic, Lanius sarcastically thought. The Courier had been a bleeding heart just like this young man was, and he couldn't help but feel a little disappointment in the fact that the greatest warrior that he had ever met, the man who defeated three armies in his path to claim Hoover Dam, was a pacifist.

"If you want to join forces with the Courier, it means more than killing Legion. The Bear, castrated as it is, will not take their loss to the Courier lightly. If you find your way to Vegas, that means killing your fair share of NCR along the way."

The young man only sent another smile in Lanius' direction. "I'll do whatever it takes if it means protecting the people of the Mojave."

Lanius only shook his head at how naïve the young man was. He was about to take a sip of beer, but then stopped and raised his bottle to his drinking companion. "Then let's hope you don't die on the way there."

"I can get behind that," the young man laughed while raising his drink in response, "but hey, I just realized that I don't know your name."

Lanius pondered for a second since he knew that he couldn't just give out his true name, because even in the Courier's Mojave there were still those who feared the wrath of Caesar's Legion. "You can call me Lan. What about you?"

"I don't really have a name anymore, but most people just call me the Lone Wanderer."

"I've heard stories of you." Lanius admitted without thinking. He saw the Wanderer shift in his seat, narrowing his eyes in suspicion just like Lanius had when they had first started talking.

"Oh yeah? Like what."

"That the Legion sent two hundred men to the Capital Wasteland to try and recruit you, and that none of them ever made it home."

He watched the Wanderer's face, and Lanius couldn't quite tell what the look was that came upon it. It was regret, or maybe shame.

"It's nothing to be proud about. A life is a life, you know?"

Lanius scowled, having heard the same tired argument from the Courier. "Yes, but a warrior is also a warrior. Is that not why you seek the Courier? To fight at his side?"

"If helping the people here means fighting, then that's what I'll do, but I wish that things were different. Deep down I believe that everyone is a good person, even the people in the Legion."

His hand gripped on tighter to his bottle. "You still believe that while they kill, and rape, and enslave?"

The Lone Wanderer looked serious for a moment, before reaching to pet his dog's patchy fur. "I believe that one day maybe all of us will be able to move passed things like war, and that maybe I myself will be able to move passed that hatred that I still sometimes feel for Anna Holt."

Lanius said nothing, and only sighed. The Lone Wanderer, just like the Courier, were both monsters just as he was. He had seen the might of the Courier firsthand, and he had heard the legends of the Wanderer of the Capital, and both of them tried so desperately to reject their own savage natures. It was something that he had never understood about the King of New Vegas.

"Come on, Dogmeat," the Wanderer finally said at last as he stood up and poured a good amount of caps on the table, "stay safe, Lan. This one's on me."

Lanius watched as the Lone Wanderer stood up and walked out of the Prospector Saloon, Dogmeat following close behind his master. It took two or three minutes of thought, of considering what the Wanderer had said, and it was then that Lanius stood up, chugged his beer, and ran his way to the outside of the saloon as well, only to find that the Wanderer hadn't gotten very far, the ghoul who had been begging for money earlier hanging off his shoulder.

"War never changes!" Lanius yelled out fiercely, the thundering sound of tribal drums surrounding his beating heart.

The Lone Wanderer looked back at Lanius curiously, and then absently made sure that the ghoul at his shoulder was holding on tightly. "Maybe so," he admitted, "but neither does humanity."

I'm not sure what exactly it would take for Lanius to up and leave the Legion to try out life as a profligate, though I doubt he would really do it, but I thought it was a nice idea for myself to try. I mostly write Digimon to be honest, but lately I've been trying to get into writing more stuff for different fandoms as well. I've dabbled in Adventure Time, Dragon Age, and Fallout as well, but I think I can do a bit more. I want to write more Fallout and have other Fallout ideas, mostly concerning New Vegas since it's my favorite game in the series, so we'll find out, eh?

Read, review, recommend me one of your own stories, do whatever you like! Have a nice day though, I mean that sincerely.