This is my first story uploaded so I'll be learning more as I write. Some aspects of Fallout Lore have been tweaked such as the existence of horses in the wasteland in order to add to the character in the story. As it moves along the pairings will begin appearing more.

The sun rose behind the large, decrepit roller coaster that snaked around the Bison Steve Hotel that stood prominently within the town of Primm. The town was silent except for the clattering sound of hooves on the old twisted highway that ran south through the town. The jet black horse was ridden by a figure that seemed like he came out of an old west movie. His long, black duster flowed from his shoulders and draped over his horse as he rode, his similarly coloured wide brimmed hat sat upon his head shielding the brown unkempt hair that perched on his head from the rising sun. He rode slowly southbound on the highway in no particular rush to get to his destination. Attached to the saddle was a rope that trailed behind as he rode, attached to the opposite end of the rope was a haggard man wearing a worn prison jumpsuit. He struggled to keep pace with the horse, regularly being prompted to speed up by a yank on the rope by the figure. The horse, the rider and the prisoner continued south along the highway, once they reached the outskirts of town the figure took the horse into a faster trot, causing the prisoner to have to speed up in order to avoid being dragged behind along the floor.
It was coming up to midday by the time they reached the Mojave outpost, the forefront outpost of the New California Republic on the border of the Mojave along the I-15 that connected the two. The rider gazed upwards at the large statues of two men shaking hands as he passed underneath, one wore a wide brimmed hat and a set of pre war police armour and the other wore a long duster none too different to his own which covered a set of Los Angeles Police Department riot gear topped off with a tactical riot helmet. The statue represented the alliance between the rangers of the New California Republic, represented by the figure in the wide brimmed hat, and the Mojave desert rangers, represented by the figure in the duster, and the union that the two groups formed in order to help repel the overgrowing horde of the Roman inspired civilisation of Caesar's Legion who were constantly crossing the Colorado river to threaten both the NCR and the people of the Mojave. As the rider got into the outpost he tied his horse to a post by the cage of brahmin, the mutated two headed cows that emerged from the radiation of the great war, and lead his prisoner towards the main building.
The doors opened and within entered the prisoner with the rider following up behind. He pushed the prisoner against the front desk, pinning him using his own body. With one hand he pulled back the prisoner's head to look at the desk sergeant and with his other hand he brought out a wanted poster that he held up to the desk sergeant. The sergeant glanced between the prisoner and the wanted poster before nodding and motioning to two soldiers dressed in light armour depicting the two headed bear symbol of the New California Republic. The prisoner was lead away while the desk sergeant took the poster from the rider and reached under the desk, taking out a bag filled with the bottlecap reward for bringing the prisoner in alive. With a nod and a tip of his hat, the rider took the reward and responded after the sergeant warned him of a fire spotted in the nearby town of Nipton.

The rider stepped out back into the day, swiftly making his way back towards his horse from which he swiftly mounted and set off at a faster pace than before, heading east down beneath the two figures and the hill the outpost was located on itself. He rode at a pace that implied he wanted to reach a certain distance before the sun set later that day. He rode east towards the distant smoking sight of Nipton, a town located on the border of pre-war California and Nevada, and continued through the town, passing a main street consisting of people of many appearances whose main connecting factor was that they all now hung on crosses consisting of old telegraph poles. The status and meaning behind the atrocious act did not interest the rider. He was familiar with this type of act, it was the work of the legionnaires of Caesar's Legion, and he did not want to stick around to find out whether there were more of them around waiting for other travellers. The rider did not get involved in anything that didn't involve him or would result in him getting paid. This was how the rider had survived through his life so far and how he would likely live the rest of his life.

As he continued west he spotted an old truck parked across the road, living how he had his whole life it gave a bad feeling in his gut, and the rider always listened to his gut. He dismounted the horse and reached into the bedroll that hung from the saddle, pulling out the lever action rifle that he had stashed within. Mounting back onto his horse, he raised the rifle to his shoulder and looked through the scope that was attached. He slowly adjusted the scope to zoom in towards the truck, carefully surveying the outer edges of the truck. He counted his gut feeling as lucky as he spotted a foot peeking out from the northern side of the truck. He held his breath and lined the shot with the foot before carefully squeezing the trigger, firing a bullet into the foot that he could see, a foot that was connected to a raider who then screamed out in pain and fell out onto the road from behind the truck. The rider turned the horse around and quickly rode it behind a nearby rock before dismounting. He slowly inched around the rock, pulling himself back behind as bullets started flying in his direction, hitting the air he had just vacated as well as the rock he was behind. Reaching down to his belt, he grabbed one of the grenades that he had attached before raising it in one hand and pulling the pin with his other. He counted to three and through the grenade up through an arc over the rock, with the accompanying explosion of the grenade and the grunts from the raiders following shortly after. Raising his rifle he turned from behind the rock and aimed down the scope, firing towards the three men that were momentarily disorientated from the explosion. With a precise aim and three pulls of his trigger later the men lay in pools of their own blood, two men receiving a quick death and the third laid bleeding out with a golf ball sized hole in his throat. The rider took the reins of the horse and lead it around the bodies that lay in the road. As he approached the truck he noticed the first raider holding the remains of his right foot. Pleading for mercy the raider choked back tears as he gazed up at the rider. The rider didn't give a second glance at the one footed raider as he reached to his left hip, removing a revolver and putting a single bullet between the raider's eyes.

It was coming up to midnight when the rider reached Ranger Station Charlie, a small trailer park that the NCR had converted into one of many camps for their rangers to base their operations from. The rider dismounted his horse and tied it up within the perimeter. He retrieved his bedroll from the saddle and climbed onto one of the trailers within the park before setting up his roll. His reputation was well known for being a fierce bounty hunter throughout the Mojave and California which lead to the NCR rangers respecting him enough to allow him to use their stations to trade and sleep within. He removed his coat and boots and placed his hat and gun belt next to the head of his bedroll before laying himself back to stare up at the stars. He drifted off quickly into a dreamless and peaceful sleep knowing his internal clock would awaken him at sunrise.

Hope you enjoyed the first chapter, reviews are appreciated as are tips and ideas.