d20 Apocalypse: Vault 52 (Updated 10-25)
Look_a_Unicorn
First Post
Just read your posts so far- I have discussed how awesome a setting Fallout would be to play in 
I love the Van Buren reference- so disappointed the game got scrapped.
Eagerly waiting for the next morsel
I love the Van Buren reference- so disappointed the game got scrapped.
Eagerly waiting for the next morsel
Falkus
Explorer
The team was heading back with Helena. They were only a few moments away from the Vault, and had met up with the rest of their group who had brought medical supplies to treat Helena’s injuries. All the interrogation of the commando (a very brutal and graphic interrogation) had revealed was that he was working for the New Government of Texas, and had come this far west on a special mission.
They got into the clearing where the Vault town was just in time to see several rockets take down all of the gates simultaneously, and a horde of commandos storming the base.
Looking back, it was incredible display of coordination and teamwork among the attackers. The rockets were barely out of the tubes of the Rockwell Type 45 BigBazooka rocket launchers before the other commandos were charging, taking down the men on watch with carefully aimed sniper shots.
But the team didn’t notice that, because at that moment, two more commandos stepped out of the bushes behind them, where they had been hiding. They were wearing perfectly fitted combat armor, grenades and ammo on a mesh vest, and they were both holding Pancor Jackhammer automatic shotguns. A crudity in their construction, Hef noted, meant they were of relatively recent construction, rather than being scavenged prewar equipment.
They were flanking a slender, handsome man wearing a white suit. He said, in a calm voice, contrasting to violence going on a few hundred feet ahead of them, “My name is Irwin John Finster. You have already lost. Your vault has been captured, your security being overwhelmed as we speak. Surrender, is your wisest option.”
“Why the hell should we listen to you?” demanded Hef, abrasive as usual.
“Because I hold all the cards, and because if you resist,” he put his hands together. “I’ll take you in by force, and rest assured, I’m more than a match for you. It’s a pity that this has to be done, but sacrifices must be made. So, are you going to surrender? ”
“Not a chance-” Hef started to say, as the rest of the group spread out, reaching for their weapons. He was cut off as Finster literally leapt across the clearing, and jump kicked him in the face, knocking him unconscious.
Grey pulled his guns, and Finster leveled his arm at him, a gun barrel extending from his wrist. “Don’t even think about it,” he chided. Grey compliantly dropped both pistols.
“Goddman it, he’s a friggin’ cyborg or robot or something,” cursed Gunther, as Larrif tossed down his shotgun and raised his hands.
“Your companions are doing the smart thing, why don’t you?” Finster said to Gunther, the commandos pulled out zip ties and cuffed Hef and Larif, making sure that they wouldn’t be anymore trouble in the immediate future.
His attention was off of Grey for one, fatal second. In that second, Grey leapt forward, grabbing Finster ina hug and raising a shield through his mutant, psionic powers. A shield that was known to interfere with electronics in an EMP fashion.
Sparks ran up and down Finster’s body, and he cursed, and twitched, and then collapsed to the forest floor, jerking spasmodically, before finally ceasing all motion.
“Ye-” Grey started to shout, before the two commandos emptied half their drums into his back. Fortunately for him, they were using rubber shells, and he would live, albeit heavily bruised and in severe pain for a week. In the meantime, he was unconscious. Very unconscious (Rolled 39 when rolling damage).
Gunther, the last standing, non-captured member of the team, Quinn having suffered a heart attack and died shortly beforehand.(Player left the campaign) dove into the two guards swinging his pipe.
He took burst and burst from their shotguns without dropping, and roared with beserked rage as he swung his weapon, denting skulls and armor.
It was only until they reloaded their guns with live ammunition that he finally saw the wisdom in surrender, and dropped his weapons. The Texan commandos promptly clubbed him down to the ground, and started kicking him, in the finest traditions of police brutality. After they tired of it, the security team was escorted inside to the Vault, which was being converted into a prison camp.
A few minutes later
Finster’s body jerked again, harder and harder, as his cybernetic systems performed a hard reset thanks to a useful anti-EMP technology developed shortly before the war, as well as the fact that Grey’s EMP field was quite weak. Finster rose to his feet, brushing off his suit. “That almost hurt me. They’ll make ideal test subjects,” he commented to himself, before striding off towards the Vault to take command of the situation.
<to be continued>
They got into the clearing where the Vault town was just in time to see several rockets take down all of the gates simultaneously, and a horde of commandos storming the base.
Looking back, it was incredible display of coordination and teamwork among the attackers. The rockets were barely out of the tubes of the Rockwell Type 45 BigBazooka rocket launchers before the other commandos were charging, taking down the men on watch with carefully aimed sniper shots.
But the team didn’t notice that, because at that moment, two more commandos stepped out of the bushes behind them, where they had been hiding. They were wearing perfectly fitted combat armor, grenades and ammo on a mesh vest, and they were both holding Pancor Jackhammer automatic shotguns. A crudity in their construction, Hef noted, meant they were of relatively recent construction, rather than being scavenged prewar equipment.
They were flanking a slender, handsome man wearing a white suit. He said, in a calm voice, contrasting to violence going on a few hundred feet ahead of them, “My name is Irwin John Finster. You have already lost. Your vault has been captured, your security being overwhelmed as we speak. Surrender, is your wisest option.”
“Why the hell should we listen to you?” demanded Hef, abrasive as usual.
“Because I hold all the cards, and because if you resist,” he put his hands together. “I’ll take you in by force, and rest assured, I’m more than a match for you. It’s a pity that this has to be done, but sacrifices must be made. So, are you going to surrender? ”
“Not a chance-” Hef started to say, as the rest of the group spread out, reaching for their weapons. He was cut off as Finster literally leapt across the clearing, and jump kicked him in the face, knocking him unconscious.
Grey pulled his guns, and Finster leveled his arm at him, a gun barrel extending from his wrist. “Don’t even think about it,” he chided. Grey compliantly dropped both pistols.
“Goddman it, he’s a friggin’ cyborg or robot or something,” cursed Gunther, as Larrif tossed down his shotgun and raised his hands.
“Your companions are doing the smart thing, why don’t you?” Finster said to Gunther, the commandos pulled out zip ties and cuffed Hef and Larif, making sure that they wouldn’t be anymore trouble in the immediate future.
His attention was off of Grey for one, fatal second. In that second, Grey leapt forward, grabbing Finster ina hug and raising a shield through his mutant, psionic powers. A shield that was known to interfere with electronics in an EMP fashion.
Sparks ran up and down Finster’s body, and he cursed, and twitched, and then collapsed to the forest floor, jerking spasmodically, before finally ceasing all motion.
“Ye-” Grey started to shout, before the two commandos emptied half their drums into his back. Fortunately for him, they were using rubber shells, and he would live, albeit heavily bruised and in severe pain for a week. In the meantime, he was unconscious. Very unconscious (Rolled 39 when rolling damage).
Gunther, the last standing, non-captured member of the team, Quinn having suffered a heart attack and died shortly beforehand.(Player left the campaign) dove into the two guards swinging his pipe.
He took burst and burst from their shotguns without dropping, and roared with beserked rage as he swung his weapon, denting skulls and armor.
It was only until they reloaded their guns with live ammunition that he finally saw the wisdom in surrender, and dropped his weapons. The Texan commandos promptly clubbed him down to the ground, and started kicking him, in the finest traditions of police brutality. After they tired of it, the security team was escorted inside to the Vault, which was being converted into a prison camp.
A few minutes later
Finster’s body jerked again, harder and harder, as his cybernetic systems performed a hard reset thanks to a useful anti-EMP technology developed shortly before the war, as well as the fact that Grey’s EMP field was quite weak. Finster rose to his feet, brushing off his suit. “That almost hurt me. They’ll make ideal test subjects,” he commented to himself, before striding off towards the Vault to take command of the situation.
<to be continued>
