War… War never changes.
Since the dawn of mankind, wars have been waged.
With stick and stones, with blades and steels, with gunpowder and nuclear fire.
War stays constant, war never truly ends.
But the world ended.
On 23rd, October, 2077, the world bathed in the invisible fire. No more nations, no more ideals, just a ruin of the past, radiating.
Even then, war didn't end. War waged on the ruins, on the wasteland, in the tunnels, on the mountains, on the glowing seas.
War, war never changes.
But men do. Men change to fit the war, the world.
When the New California Republic was founded in 2186, no one thought that it could last. But it lasted, and it expanded. By the end of the 23rd century, the NCR marched east.
Eastward they went, eastward they conquered. To the Mojave they went, to the Mojave they stayed. Nevada was within their grasp, it was only a matter of time until they reach the other side of the Colorado.
Then, came the Legion. 87 tribes, wiped out, shackled up, beaten until their culture broke, forced into slavery, trained to be something else. The Legion marched west, leaving fire on its track, blood on its steps. Everything it finds, it conquers. Every legacy it saw, it burns.
And so, the two force met. One turned the east into its slave, other got the west under its thumb. Two ideals, two nations, two army.
And war, once again, waged.
An army of tribals and savages.
An army of cowards and arrogants.
The Mojave burned, the world they knew split into two, with the Hoover Dam as the border.
But this war wasn't only theirs. But of many.
The New Vegas Strips, a beacon in the endless night of the wasteland, an oasis on the ruthless desert, held a hidden secret. One, no one knew until the day it was revealed. One which can turn the tide with just a small object, a single, small thing.
But this isn't the story about how that war ended or what happened in that war, but of someone who lived through it.
A man, the last of his kind, a drifter, as some called them. A ranger, to some other.
His father was a ranger, so did his grandfather, and so did his great-grandfather.
It was a tradition, a rite of passage. The first child of the family bears the burden to continue it.
But it was all gone, in a single day.
When the Legion marched to Nevada, there was an obstacle they haven't faced before. An armed force, strong enough to make them stop.
The Desert Rangers.
Created before the war, lasted after the end. They vowed to protect those who travel across the wasteland. The only form of order on the desert, a small spark in the endless night.
They fought against the Legion. They made them stop.
They didn't fight with just gun and muscle, but with mind and tactics.
Ambush, raid, infiltration, sabotage, assassination,… you name it.
They forced the Legion to fight a war where their number gave their no advantage, where quality matters more than quantity.
But even when they had the upper hand, they lacked in number. And it was their down fall.
The Desert Rangers force dwindled. Every death became a heavy cost. They could make the Legion stop, but doing so will also take away all they have.
It was then, a new force came into the scene. The NCR, with their own rangers, came to the Mojave. Two rangers met, one created to keep a new nation safe, other kept the tradition of the past alive. They allied and pushed the Legion back.
If only it was what happened.
The Desert Rangers trained the NCR, gave them weapons and equipments to fight. They showed them the world beyond the Colorado.
But what did the NCR do to them?
Same thing the Legion did to the tribes.
The Desert Rangers were forced to sign in a treaty. The NCR will save them, will help them, but only if they join them, become part of the NCR Rangers. The cost was their tradition, their ideals, their freedom.
The Desert Rangers were on their last leg, decided to agreed with the NCR's treaty. And thus, what once was a proud legacy slowly faded into obscurity.
Most of them, at least. Some seeked to honor their legacy one last time, stayed in the east of Colorado, made their one last stand against the Legion. Other scattered on the wasteland, back to their vigilante past, help other settlements, sabotage any Legion camp they found. Some decided to step out and satified with a more quiet life, acted as guards or joined the militia for small settlements in Nevada.
This story is about one such individual, but fate had a different idea for them.
War… War never changes.
Since the dawn of mankind, wars have been waged.
With stick and stones, with blades and steels, with fire and dust.
War stays constant, war never truly ends.
But war ended. Or at least, a the greatest one ended.
The Great War began with just two men, and ended with the life of thousands. Mantle, Mistral, Vale, and then Vacuo. Four kingdoms, four army, one war.
The war ended when the Grimm attacked the kingdoms, made them realised that they have to join force to protect themselves. With a common goal, and Vale's victories, the four kingdoms signed a treaty, promised to join hand together to protect Remnant.
Armies were disbanded, replaced with the Huntsmen, who duties weren't that of war, but of peace. Faunus, once seen as slaves, now citizens. Dust, once a weapon, now a tool for science.
Even then, war… it didn't end. It didn't change.
Even when the common peace was achieved, there are those who aren't allowed to have it, or those who don't want it. The Faunus, on paper, were citizen. In reality, they were treated as animals.
And soon, another war began. A war of rights and races, for justice and fairness. Banners were raised, men were armed. Protests became conflict. Riot control evolved into dominations and supressions.
The banners, once bear great meaning, soiled, changed, became something insidious.
Word, once called for peace and justice, roared for blood and vengence.
The White Fang, once the major group represent the Faunus, now a menace to the society. Disillusioned, many left. Many wondered of what could have been. Some tried to stay and put them back to the right path. Some left, tried to find a quiet life after what they had to suffer.
A young girl who joined the revolution for her family, now left it all behind. She hated it all, war, reasons, ideals. She wanted a life, free of human, free of war. But fate had other ideas for her.