Well here I am once more! :D with another chapter to Rise of the Fallen. But this time, we're taking a couple of trips to different parts of the world as you probably could tell by the chapter title :P
First we're headed to the great sand filled lands of the wastes down under known as Australia! Exciting ain't it?
Where else? You'll find out ;)
Also I decided to try a little something to try and draw more people into the story, I will accept OC's for this, and it will be a crossover between both all "Fallout" games, the "Mad Max" series, and "Metro 2033" games. Why? All ended in a Nuclear War and I think I can make this all go together… hell I may throw some "Reign of Fire" into this just for shits and giggles XD
Now onto the thing of OC's I will accept four for this, as I'm already doing an OC thing for BIA (Brothers in Arms which I might add is getting a lot of views :) making me a happy writer.) and I already have gotten one.
So the rules are simple.
1 I will onlyaccept them through PMs, Do Not put them in a review, because I will not use them.
2 You must Read andReview the first chapters.
3 Guest OC's are not permitted. I will not use them.
4 You must take it easy on me as I'm still a newbie writer in some ways, so if you do send in an OC and I get one little thing wrong I don't want any hate thrown my way.
5 They must not be OP (Over-Powered) but, well you'll find out at the bottom. ;)
6 You must make it believable, I don't want any Aliens, (Even though there is one in the capital wastelands. Alien blaster, great weapon! One hit Klll! :D) So yeah.
Now on with the show! :D
Note also adding some things :P
Also, thanks to Ranger-A13 for the review! :D woohoo! :D
Location: Australian Wastes.
Time: Afternoon
Pov: Third.
Australia, once known as the Land down under by everyone worldwide, now nothing more than a war torn landscape.
The skies were a dull grey color with some clouds moving slowly south, rain perhaps?
The roads were a dangerous place for the unwary, as road bandits had vehicles of all shapes and sizes and they owned them outside of the very few and widely spread safe zones.
On the battered and scorched roads a Feral Ghoul stood, wearing the tattered remnants of a soldier's uniform of a military long fallen and forgotten. He stood about five feet and had white eyes, his hair was long gone and only a few strands remained on his skull, his skin was all but gone showing nothing but muscle tissue and small pieces of flesh that still hung on. His lips were wrinkled back showing rotten broken teeth that resembled fangs, his fingernails had grown and were also broken giving him claws of a sort.
In short, he was scary to look at. But, there was something else about him that was quite odd. He doesn't attack anybody, as he just stands there, staring off into nothing. He doesn't wander and he doesn't move.
Some if they pass by would stop and actually walk up to him, he would merely give them a blank stare before returning to whatever it was he was doing in the first place.
People who studied the Mutants and Feral Ghouls would study him, they would try and figure out why he doesn't attack anyone, why he doesn't hiss or make any of the Ghoul calls and screams.
Some say he still has his sanity while others say he's just blind deaf and mute, no one knows for sure… except him.
A sound drew his attention, which was rare given his state of being. He turned his head making a popping sound and looked up into the sky. He could barely make out what looked like a small flaming blur in the skies, and it was headed for the car graveyard by the looks of it.
Now inside this same plane was an eighteen year old pale skinned Australian trying his best to keep the old beach-craft plane aloft, but he wasn't doing well.
You see, some bandit had gotten ahold of some Anti-Aircraft weapons and he decided to test it out, the plane was just flying over the wrong place at the wrong time it would seem.
"Damn it!" he yelled as the engines started to slowly burn off, then the right propeller exploded off into a fireball as the plane slowly tipped right then down. Several buttons and lights went off as well as some alarm signaling, well, that all hell has broken loose.
Eventually the left engine blew out making the plane tilt further forward until it was in a nosedive, but he managed to keep the nose from going completely down but just barely. "Come on bitch!" he growled through gritted teeth, "Up!"
He knew he would crash he was just trying to make it as soft as possible, after all he had some stuff he didn't want to get destroyed but it would probably happen anyway.
He could barely see the area he was about to crash land, but that went away quickly as something flew forward and hit him in the head knocking him out. How convenient.
On the ground the Feral Ghoul watched as the plane flew downwards until it eventually crash landed with a loud explosion, a large fireball exploded into the sky forming a small mushroom cloud. The Ghoul tilted his head in curiosity as he slowly walked that way, curious about the pilot.
The Graveyard was aptly named, as it was filled with vehicles that still had their occupants inside. Cars of many different models and makes filled this place, long ago it was a place where people hid out. It was a refugee camp, but it was attacked by bandits and raiders a year in, everyone was either killed or turned into cannon fodder.
Some of the vehicles were burned out shells or stripped down to the bare metal, while others were nothing but the leftover frame or laying in pieces on the ground. The skeletal remains of the dead sit in their vehicles or half buried in the ground.
Sitting in a crater was the plane, and it was a mess. The plane split into many pieces, the tail was broke off from the cockpit and the wings were broken into various sized pieces. The windows were all but smashed and the cargo was scattered in destroyed fragments on the ground. The cargo looked to be pieces of disassembled machinery or weapon parts, all of which were either on fire or bent and broken.
The Australian groaned and shook his head only to regret it instantly as he felt a massive headache coming on, he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his eyes and he saw the broken window with a piece of rebar just inches away from his face. "Damn, that was close." He muttered as he climbed out of his seat and got a further look at the damage.
Once he did, he yelled in anger-"Damn it all you bastard!"-all the while kicking the damaged hull and sending parts flying in different directions.
The Australian's name was Jonas Walker, and he was one of the few people who actually knew how to fly a plane.
He looked rather normal for an Aussie. He had medium length blonde hair that covered deep brown eyes and a small scar was present on his left eye which made the iris a dull brown.
He wore a black leather jacket with a dirty white shirt underneath and blue jeans with black hiking boots, on his hands he wore leather gloves and elbow pads. On his belt was a black hilted combat knife with a serrated edge, a Pre-War relic, and a hard find out here in the Wastes down under.
He stepped out of the wreckage and out into the wastes, he saw where he was now and bowed his head in respect for the dead. Then went about rooting through the plane for anything that may have survived the crash, all he found was his empty pack and a pipe, everything else was burnt or burning. He shook his head as he went about looking for anything he could use from the surrounding vehicles.
On the hill overlooking the graveyard the Ghoul stood, he watched as the Human rooted through the Graveyard of cars, what for he didn't know.
Jonas rooted through the vehicles for anything of use but he didn't find much except some empty bottles of whiskey and wine. "Could make Molotov's outta these." He said, but then he would need some flammable liquid though.
Little did he know he was about to have some company, in the distance where the sun was setting five vehicles were plowing through the desert sands. They saw the plane crash and they were hell bent on getting to it, must be raiders.
These were raiders known as Sand Wolves, most were remnants of the Humungus clan from decades past, before the warrior known as Max destroyed them.
The vehicle in front leading the others was a Muscle car of sorts and there was no armor and the doors were gone and replaced with mesh on the bottom of the door frame. Inside were two people, both of which were wearing old police uniforms and wolf skulls on their helmets that were fashioned into armor.
The second two vehicles in the middle were trucks, one was a Red pickup and the other was a rusted tow truck.
Inside the Red pickup was two people, one was dressed in a leather harness and shorts with boots and he also had a mask of sorts on his face. The second was the driver who wore a red jacket over a tank top and jeans with no shoes, over his entire head he wore a motorcycle helmet with a mesh visor, and the helmet was colored in an array of tribal markings.
Inside of the Tow Truck was a single person wearing a jumpsuit for a mechanics shop and a world war 2 helmet with several spikes coming out of it.
Behind those two was a brown colored bike and a Police van.
On the bike rode a women wearing a Tight brown jumpsuit and a leather helmet made out of some kind of animal. The people in the Police van were all wearing random clothing, jumpsuits and leather clothing and all of them were carrying makeshift weapons form machetes to spears and crossbows.
The Feral Ghoul saw them. He was staring blankly out at them wondering what he should do. He saw several rocks on the ground and picked one up and he looked over at the human and chucked it, hitting a van and making a loud noise.
Jonas whipped around drawing his knife looking for the source of the interruption, he didn't find it but he did see the vehicles approaching from the west. "Oh damn." He muttered as he ran in the other direction, he knew he wouldn't be able to outrun them so he'll just have to hide.
He ran past old cars and other vehicles looking for a good one to hide in, he spotted a truck but the doors were gone. "Damn it!" he kept running until he came across an old Buick, he ran for it and opened the creaky door and jumped inside closing the door.
Once he did he went down on the floor and made himself as flat as possible, he could hear the vehicles pull up outside, he clutched his knife with a death grip as he heard the engines stop.
"Is the Pilot still in there?" One of them yelled, getting out of his car and looking around.
"No, he's gone boss." He replied, looking around as well. "he musta split."
"Strip the plane and get the fuel!" the leader yelled as he stepped out of his car, he brandished a large axe of sorts. "And search the place for the Pilot, I feel like killin something."
"Damn it!" Jonas screamed mentally, he hoped they wouldn't find him.
He then listened to them rummage through his plane, through his cargo and everything else. Not that any of it was worth keeping anymore, it was all broken anyway.
The Feral Ghoul watched as the Sand Wolves ransacked the Human's plane of anything worthwhile, some were at the back siphoning the fuel that had burned.
The leader was sitting on the hood of the muscle car holding his axe, the blade was a crescent shaped blade with a serrated edge and a steel pole, and it was menacing to look at. His helmet was different from the other one, as it was slightly bigger with two horns coming out of the back part curving up and forward and fitted with metal parts, it was bolted onto a helmet that fit over his entire head, the eye socket part wen right over his eyes and the lower jaw part of the large skull went under his chin, the fangs were also sharpened and replaced with pieces of metal giving the helmet more of a hellish appearance.
Jonas had snuck a peek of the leader and was very scared to see him here, he didn't expect him to leave the confines of his Juggernaut. "Oh man, what's he doing here?" he wondered.
"Alpha!" one of the other's yelled, he was holding up something. "Look what I found."
The Alpha as he is known walked over to the raider and got a look of what he was holding and saw it was a small square disc of sorts with a small faded logo and it had somehow unfazed by the crash.
The Alpha plucked it from the Raider's hands and looked it over before pocketing it, he looked around the Graveyard before going back over to his muscle car and getting in. "Let's roll wolves!" he bellowed.
Everyone nodded and went back to their vehicles and began driving off, all except one. The one who drove the tow truck stayed behind because he thought he heard something, now he was one of the lower members of the Sand Wolves as he wasn't very bright.
The others left him all alone, of course he didn't know that, not yet anyways.
Jonas had snuck another peek to see if they were gone and was relieved to see that they were, he got up and opened the door and got out as he looked around once more just to be sure.
He spotted the sun was slowly setting on the horizon and made a thought he should find a way out of this place, maybe a vehicle that still works?
Little did he know he was being watched by the Raider from afar, who was slowly making his way over to him, his machete raised for the kill.
The Feral Ghoul saw what was about to happen and slowly made his way over, his footfalls were silent as he stalked over to the raider.
Jonas had relaxed his grip on his knife just as the Raider jumped at him with a feral roar as he was knocked to the ground. Jonas lost his grip on his knife as the Raider tried to impale him with the machete, Jonas dodged but just barely.
"Die!" the Raider yelled.
"Punk ass!" Jonas replied, as he tried to reach for his knife which lay a few feet away from him.
The Raider tried to stab him once more but couldn't as Jonas grabbed the Raider's hand with his left an held the machete with the other. The two struggled and struggled and nether was letting up it, both were intent of killed the other.
Jonas got his legs under the Raider and kicked him off as he rolled to his knife, he picked it up and instead of holding it blade forward he held it with the blade facing backwards and his arms held up in a defensive posture.
The Raider held his Machete in his right hand with a crazed look on his face and he was wobbling slightly where he stood, he must have been taking chems or something. "You're gonna die kid." He threatened darkly.
"That's what you think ya scrubber." Jonas taunted, what the heck is a scrubber?
"Punk!" The raider yelled as he charged forward.
Jonas stood still, and waited until the Raider came close enough, then struck. Jonas moved faster than the Raider could blink, the raider didn't even see as Jonas struck him in the arm severing several arteries.
The Raider gasped in pain before falling to his knees, blood started spurting out of his arm in crimson streams as he screamed in pain, he fell to the ground and started bleeding out.
Jonas grinned as he holstered his knife. He then saw the tow truck sitting there, a thieving smile grew on his face as he walked over to the truck.
The Feral Ghoul had made it over to the human but he was hiding behind a car and watching the human closely, he was getting more and more curious by the minute.
Jonas had walked over to the truck but was struck down from behind by none other than the raider he thought he had killed, tough ass bastard.
Jonas had fallen to the ground hard as the raider punched him, Jonas grunted in pain as he fumbled for his knife which had somehow fallen out of his holster.
The Feral Ghoul had seen what had happened and started walking over to the humans.
Jonas was trying to fight off the Raider, but was failing ass the Raider had grabbed him into a chokehold. Jonas's vision was slowly fading,
The Raider grinned evilly as he saw Jonas slowly passing out. "Di-aahh!" The Raider started before falling to the ground, there were several small holes in the back of his head.
The Feral Ghoul stood above Jonas and thee now dead Raider, his clawed hand was bloody and had small droplets of blood falling off it.
Jonas was coughing up a fit as he held his neck, small drops of blood were on his face but he didn't take notice of them. He slowly opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times to clear them, when they did he saw the Feral Ghoul before him. "Oh shit!" he yelled, he crawled backwards trying to get away but fumbled on a rock and fell. He expected to hear the hissing sound or guttural growls, but he didn't hear it, only the wind slightly blowing.
He looked back to the Feral Ghoul and just saw him standing there, head tilted to the side in question. The Feral Ghoul's arms hung at his sides, blood coated his left hand as he looked at Jonas.
Jonas was, for a word, speechless as to why the Feral Ghoul wasn't attacking him. He just stood there, white eyed and silent as the winds.
The Feral Ghoul stared at the human, wondering what he should do now.
Jonas blinked while he bit his lip, he decided to YOLO it. "Sup."
The Feral Ghoul nodded and pointed behind Jonas, at what?
Jonas turned his head but kept an eye on the Ghoul as he looked, he saw the truck sitting there idling softly and got what the Feral Ghoul was saying. "Truck?" he asked, before he thought. "It's a Feral Ghoul! I doubt he understands me."
But to Jonas's surprise it nodded, then gestured to the dead Raider. Jonas looked at the Raider and saw the Machete, he inched over to it and gripped it in his hands and slowly stood up. He looked at the Feral Ghoul carefully, he held the Machete tight just in case the Ghoul should attack him.
As he walked towards the Tow truck he heard the Ghoul following him, he turned around as the Ghoul stopped in his tracks. "Are you going to follow me?" he asked.
The Feral Ghoul nodded, signaling he was indeed going to follow him.
Jonas bit the inside of his lip, why would a Feral Ghoul follow him? Why is it not attacking him? What the hell is going on with today!?
"Are you… going to kill me?" he asked, holding up his machete. "Cause if you try and do so I'll chop your head off and use it as a hood ornament!"
The Feral Ghoul shook his head as Jonas sighed and walked over to the tow truck, The Feral Ghoul followed closely behind.
The Tow truck's windows were armored somewhat poorly with some chain-link fencing and barbed wire at the top, it was latched on with some bolts put into the frame. The wheels were off-road made and on the front was a shoddy looking plow, it was a bumper made of wood and pieces of metal.
"Better than nothing I guess." he thought as he hopped into the truck, he saw the Ghoul walk to the back of the truck and jumped onto the back. Jonas looked and saw him holding onto the small Crane, guess he was coming with. Jonas shook his head as he put the truck in gear. "This has been one hectic day." He said to himself as he started driving west.
Location: Post-War America, Utah Wastes.
Time: Evening
Pov: Third
'Defect, part 1'
"Damn it all to hell this sucks!" A young man thought as he was dragged along a line of Captured people.
Utah, as you probably could have seen is under control of Caesar's legion, even after four years they're still around.
Walking along the desert was a chain-gang, of fresh slaves caught by the Legion. Most were unlucky travelers, and others were part of tribes.
All except one.
In the middle of the chain-gang walked a young man of about eighteen wearing rags with a red x painted on the front, his long unkempt brown hair hung in front of dark hazel eyes that held a deep darkness. He stood close to six feet and had several scars adorning his body.
His name was, you will find out. He was the youngest of the fresh captures. They were all headed to a small village where they would be reconditioned into Caesar's slave army, something which was most likely.
The Decanus who led the chain-gang was accompanied by several Prime and Veteran Legionary, all of them armed with an assortment of different weapons from Varmint rifles to small 22. pistols. The Decanus himself was armed with a Hunting rifle and had a long Machete at his side.
The sun was almost gone but the sands were still hot as fire, the slaves were without foot-ware so they were in a fair amount of pain right now.
Eventually they reached the village and man was it a sight to see.
Several buildings were fortified and none of the windows were left open, several trenches were dug around the perimeter being about five feet deep, on the outside of the trenches were several spikes jutting out of the ground, and a wall of sorts was built out of scrap metal the surrounded the area with barbed wire at the top. If the Caesar's Legion was good at anything it's crafting or erecting something out of scrap metal in very little time.
They entered the gate and passed Housewives and Caretakers as well as blacksmiths who gave them a silent look of knowing, and pity of what's in store for them.
Once they were brought in the gate was closed with a heavy slam and locked, no getting out now.
They were then dragged towards what looked like a grocery store, all the windows were heavily fortified and the place had small fires around it coming from barrels. Guarding the front were two Legionaries holding machetes, their faces hidden behind their masks.
The two opened the doors and the group was brought inside, once they got a look at it they realized what it was, it was an arena.
"They want us to fight?" the teen thought with sadistic glee as he and the others were gathered into the middle. "Good."
As they all gathered in the middle the door closed and their shackles taken off. Then the Legionaries took off into a pair of back doors leaving the half confused people behind.
"What's going on here!?" an older man yelled, his hands bruised and shaking with fear.
"Let us go!" an adult tanned color man screamed, eyes filled with rage.
"Quiet fool." The youngest said in an icy tone. "Your pleas go unheard for they will not let us all go, only one leaves this arena alive."
Everyone looked to him, their eyes filled with fear.
"W-what?" the old man asked. "They're going to…"
"Yes," He responded, cutting the old man off, "many of you will die here today."
Then that's when all the yelling and clamoring began, they yelled and screamed to the Legion to let them go but it was pointless. The youngest knew this as pure fact.
On the floor a pair of large gates was opened leading into darkness, a waft of smell shot up that smelled of pure death making them all cringe and grab their noses. An eerie hissing noise emitted from it prompting the group to back away, something was down there.
The horrid sounds of barks and growls filled the air as several legionaries threw some machetes onto the ground in front of them, the Decanus yelled to them. "Fight for your lives!"
They didn't hesitate to grab one, though they didn't look like they would fare well.
Eventually a horde of Legion Mongrels erupted from the hole in the floor, all snarling and eyes filled with bloodlust, the fight for their lives began.
There were five legion mongrels and seven slaves, the odds don't look so good.
The group of humans split up, as in they ran for their lives.
The mongrels gave chase, barking and snarling and drooling in the hopes of getting the taste of flesh on their tongues.
Three of the seven slaves had gotten mauled to death, bet that sucked a bit.
Four remained. The old man, the tanned teenager, a somewhat burly adult and the youngest of them were all gathered near the corner, machetes raised.
The youngest saw four of them eating those who had fallen and quickly planned out what to do, he looked at the group before him and he knew they wouldn't live to see the light of day.
"The old man already looks like he's about to have a heart attack. The fat guy, well that's obvious how's he's going to die. The other teen might survive, if he's smart about all this." the youngest thought, planning out what to do.
He gave the fat one a look, then kicked him forward making him fall to the ground. The fat man fell to the ground right in front of the mongrels, he looked up at them just as they tore right into him and he screamed bloody murder as the tanned teen and the older male ran for it and as they ran the youngest stood his ground, a disturbing calmness in his eyes.
"Hey kid! Run!" The tanned teen yelled his hands cupped together.
He didn't move an inch, he stood his ground and waited until one of the mongrels jumped at him, then almost as a blur he sidestepped and swung his machete with such force he took out the mongrel's eye.
It yelped as it hit the floor and struggled to stand up, its eye held close as blood slowly seeped out. It looked at the human with its one red eye with a snarl before barking at the group of Mongrels behind him.
The Horde of Mongrels looked and started to converge on him, teeth bared and growling menacingly.
The human held out his left hand, and made a come and get me gesture.
They started barking and began charging at him, intent on feasting on his flesh.
He took a stance and began his fight, he was about to have a little fun.
They all surrounded him and paced around him, waiting for the right moment to jump. One stopped moving and ran at him full speed, jaw wide open and eyes filled with murderous purpose.
The human slave saw him jump and sidestepped once more and slashed downwards in a Diagonal arch not only killing the mongrel but spilling his guts onto the ground, it fell without a sound as it bled out. A putrid smell emitted from it as two other mongrels charged at him.
He spun around with the machete at his back and slashed at the first taking out its legs and kicked the second one in the head followed by stabbing it in the gut, it yelped loudly and clamped its jaws down on the humans leg making him growl.
One snuck up behind him and tackled him sending him to the ground, what now?
The human slave grabbed the top part of the muzzle of the mongrel biting his leg and smashed the Machete on its head making it let go. He got up and quickly dispatched it, decapitating it and taking another stance.
One tried to sneak attack him once more but the slave saw this and held the machete with the blade facing backwards and dodged the swipe of its claws and slashed at it taking out its right front leg, it fell to the floor hard with a yelp as it struggled to stand.
The slave ran at it with his machete raised and brought it down cleaving the mongrel's skull in half, he killed it but the machete was now stuck in its skull and he couldn't get it loose.
As he struggled to get the machete loose the one eyed mongrel was closing in on him, teeth bared and pissed off to the point of insanity.
The slave saw him coming towards him and let go of the machete and raised his fists in a defensive posture. He looked around for the other two slaves but they were nowhere in sight, were they dead?
His thinking was disrupted when he was tackled to the ground by the one eyed mongrel, it clamped its jaws around the final slave's neck so tight his airway was cut off and he couldn't breathe. He tried to fight it off but he couldn't, he vision was slowly fading and everything became a blur.
The he heard the words. "Halt!"
The mongrel stopped squeezing but kept a firm grip on his neck.
The slave tilted his head behind him the best he could and saw a Centurion standing at the front entrance, behind him, was a large beast of a man wearing the unmistakable armor of a Legate.
"Off!" he said to the mongrel, it obeyed and let the slave go as to legionary recruits came over and grabbed him by the arms, and they held him up as blood trailed down his neck.
"What is your name Profligate, speak!"
"Why do you want to know red?" the slave asked, spitting blood on his feet. "Making a gravestone for me?"
"I'll ask again Wastrel, what is your name?"
He looked him in the eyes and muttered one word. "Eversio."
Alrighty then here it is! :D whoo! This took a good while :P
Granted it's probably not the best chapter though. I was really feeling it, sorry about that.
Now, onto the OC thing.
Below is the template for an OC.
Name: (Something normal or outrageous, whatever works for ya.)
Age: (Between 15 and 50, unless he/she's a Ghoul then between 15 and 200)
Gender: (Male Female you know the drill.)
Species: (Human, Ghoul, Mutant, Android, What?)
Personality: (Please be descriptive of this.)
Appearance: (Nothing too outrageous or weird please, I do not want a character that looks like Boba Fett or Darth Vader)
Clothing: (Same as above.)
Alignment: (BoS? NCR? Caesar's legion? Enclave? Or perhaps, something else?)
Rank: (Not needed if not a part of anything.)
Weapons: (Nothing OP please. Ya need Stuff like Rifles Pistols Melee weapons, things like that.)
Powers: (Only if you're a Mutant or a Glowing Ghoul, if not then don't include this.)
Special Aspects: (Whatever you can think of, what's special about your OC?)
History: (Whatever you want, but make it believable.)
Well, here it is, have fun!
Also, I'm going to be taking a little Hiatus from any other story until I finish TOTD and TD, both of which are almost finished so please be patient with me.
Bye.