In the heart of Virginia, resided a city. It spanned farther than any settlement within a hundred miles. It's walls were metal, steel shined in the unforgiving sun. Armed guards patrolled the battlements, taking down the odd feral ghoul with a well placed shot. This city's residents had moved into the many unoccupied houses within the walls of this sanctuary. This city stood on the outskirts of Richmond, allowing farmers to tend to the land without concrete obstructing their progress. The outskirts were safer as well, as the city itself was filled with raiders and ghouls and the occasional Super Mutant stronghold. The only threat in the outskirts were packs of feral dogs and the odd ghoul. By wasteland standards, this city was a paradise. But what was it called and who built it? Well, that was easy. The mayor built it after all, a man named Albert Wesson.
And this city was called Jamestown.
August 4th, 2290
The sun was incredibly unforgiving today. It's harsh rays burned Albert's back as he hiked up the hill. He was dressed in his usual getup. A blue jumpsuit adorned with leather armor and pouches. Anyone who saw him pass would see a figure on his back "10-" whatever came next was obscured by a rifle holster, which carried a scoped hunting rifle, with some interesting modifications. In his hand was a red bandana, old, faded, and dirty. Maybe once there was a design on it, but now it was hard to tell. The wasteland sand crunched under Albert's boots as he made his way up the hill, nearly reaching the crest. He stopped at the top and looked back, Jamestown rolling out like a picturesque wasteland carpet. He could see everything from here. The residential area, the market, the barracks, and the wall. From what he could gather from his surroundings, he had built this place in the ruins of a sort of rural suburb. His own house stood at the base of the hill. A two-story, somewhat decorated house. He figured it would've been pretty expensive before the war.
He turned his back on the landscape and sighed as he laid his eyes on the grave marker. He walked to it with a heavy heart and lowered himself to one knee. He read the words on the wooden cross, as if he hadn't written them himself.
Dogmeat
2275-2290
He took the bandana and wrapped it around the cross, tying it off with an endearing knot. He rested his hand on the cross, taking it in for a moment. Then he heard a playful "Woof!" behind him. A small smirk set on his face as he turned around and saw his newest companion, Storm. "Hey girl, I was just visiting ol' Grandad here." he said, earning him a sad whimper in return. 'Just as smart as her Grandpa.' Albert thought, rising to his feet. He put a hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes against the sun. A caravan was coming in, with some pretty big cargo. He looked back at Storm, who wagged her tail. He smiled again.
"Come on girl, let's head home."