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Showdown on the Scorched Earth ~ The True Glory of Rome; Humanity Foundation Value: D+ {Iji, Grace, Iffy}
Topic Started: Jan 16 2018, 10:23 PM (115 Views)
Parsee Mizuhashi
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Green-eyed Monster

"...And reports say that the giant golden man, whose name is either 'Roma' or 'Romulus', continues to aid the people of Bitter Springs. After killing several deathclaws to be made into steaks, he set up a water pump connected directly to Lake Mead, meaning easy fresh water for the refugees and NCR soldiers stationed there. He claims that these are, quote, 'among Roma's final gifts, before I see these so-called Romans for myself.' He then told the refugees to 'relish in the bountiful harvests of Roma, for Roma loves you'. Well, I can't say I get all of what he's saying, but it sounds like life's going to be easier for Bitter Springs now, so he's alright in my book. Let's just hope that when he visits the Legion, he's not too impressed."

As Mr. New Vegas switched over to music, and the Western beats of "Big Iron" wafted through the air, four pairs of footsteps tromped across the Mojave desert dirt. The sun hung high in the sky, it being only a little past noon, beating down on the weary travelers. A canteen was passed around, and Dean Domino quickly swallowed some of the cold water to stave off the heat, even for just a few seconds.

With a satisfied sigh, he handed it back to Parsee with a quiet "thank you". The woman immediately took another swig for herself; out of their little group, she handled these long treks the worst. Today wasn't even that bad -- it was the dead of winter -- but even in such times, the day was never truly cold around here. The hot desert ground and the sun shining right over their heads meant that long walks was still exerting and rather toasty. Youkai or not, she was still a young woman who was used to a dark, chilly cave, not the desert.

"Almost there, everyone. It's just right up this hill." They were passing through the Bitter Springs recreation area right now. A collection of trailers and cars abandoned and cleared of any loot long ago, and small shack for an office that was just as abandoned. Heading up the hill to the refugee camp would only take a few more minutes. Dean's announcement drew a relieved sigh from Parsee, a tiny nod of acknowledgement from Dog, and Alter...well, did a twirl as he skipped forward and happily hummed along to the song playing from his phone's radio app. Much to his chagrin, because the kid's humming was terribly off-key and screechy. At least he wasn't singing this time.

The last stretch of the walk passed in silence, save for a new song starting up and Alter (horribly) humming along to that too. As they trudged up the hill, Dean's mind wandered to this strange visitor the camp had gotten. Even though he'd only arrived a couple days ago, he'd become the talk of New Vegas overnight. At first he just sounded like an eccentric, but by the end of the night of his first day, he'd manage to somehow shape a bunch of shattered wood and scrap metal into functional shacks that could house dozens. Prior to that, the refugees were forced to sleep under tattered tents and hastily constructed alcoves. Now they had actual beds, actual roofs over their heads, and places to sit and eat comfortably at. That kind of work being done in a day was downright miraculous in this world, and so this "Roma Romulus" fellow had won the full love and support of the Mojave's people.

It was an opportunity that Dean had to grasp. Just about everyone in the Mojave -- locals and NCR citizens alike -- liked this guy and wanted him to keep helping people. And he'd made it very clear that he was going to go after the Caesar's Legion camps at Ranger Station Bravo and the Valley of Fire. Get some great PR with the NCR and the Mojave and clean out some Legion freaks in one fell swoop, AND some other guy was around to be a meat shield? That was a win-win situation in his book.

Assuming that this Romulus guy didn't shack up with the Legion after meeting them. He was going to bail so hard if that happened.

A few minutes later, the four had made it to the refugee camp. While the NCR soldiers guarding the entrance gave them a good long look, they had a "let in anyone who doesn't look like the enemy" policy, so they let them through without stopping. It wasn't hard to find their man from there. Two large metal shacks were erected in the wide, roughly circular patch of land that made up the bulk of the camp. A crowd of refugees was gathered in this makeshift main square, talking amongst themselves and watching as a large, caped figure was hunched over working on something at the very center.

"I suppose we should mingle with--" The ghoul got cut off when a gust of wind blew the man's cape up, causing Alter to let out a scandalized squeak and -- wow, those were some very muscular buns. Dean couldn't stop his mouth opening slightly in amazement because damn.

Dog blinked. Oblivious to Dean's agape look and slight envy, Parsee's taken-aback face and growing blush, or Alter's look of sheer horror, the super mutant spoke the only thing on his mind. "...Gold Man not super mutant."

"Hahaha! It is complete! BEHOLD, ROMAN CITIZENS!" Romulus spun around and moved aside with a grand flourish, and the "ooh"s and "aah"s of the crowd were swiftly drowned out by a strangled yelp from Alter. Dean lifted his sunglasses to make sure he was really seeing what was in front of him.

It was....a statue, probably made out of scrap metal, cut and sculpted to be a perfect replica of the very man who made it. Based on the spray can on his hand, the Lancer had just finished spray painting it in shiny gold paint. The man struck a goofy Y-shaped pose, the very same that the statue was in. The man's work was phenomenal, having meticulously replicated his divine physic, complex musculature and all. Even -- much to the disgust, arousal, horror, or some combination of all three -- his.....leotard-clad bulge.

"GAZE UPON ROMA, PEOPLE OF BITTER SPRINGS!" The Servant boasted with a wide grin, still holding his strange pose. "How does it look? Perfect, yes? Just like Roma! ROMA!"

Many voices piped up from the crowd, eager to share their thoughts on the piece of art -- but one voice tore above it all, louder than all the rest combined.

"PUT SOME FUCKING CLOTHES ON, JESUS CHRIST!" Alter screeched, covering his poor virgin eyes.
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Yarne & Nah
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One thing after another. Three cloaked figures made their path through the desert. They had a specific yet vague goal in their mind - to meet 'the great founder'. Such was the request of a certain person, who was amongst the three. They were of a fairly differing height, the tallest standing at over 2 meters, yet that figure wasn't particularly wide. Under the cloak one could make out details of a fairly ornate coat. One that was not either tall or short was barefoot, fur was the only thing clearly standing out from under the cloak, the rest was well hidden in the shade. The short figure's clothes are easy to determine as a frilly white dress. They had yet to reach their goal, even though it was close in sight.

"Ours is a fairly unique union. Remember that we need to take full advantage of it," the tallest figure spoke with a deep baritone that commanded respect, "Your nature must not be known. As long as it is unknown, assumptions will be made. And making assumptions is a mistake one shouldn't make on a battlefield. And we must be certain we do not make any assumptions either."

The other two cloaked figures silently nodded, as if it was just a repetition of a fragmented plan. Soon, a screeching shout was heard... And, considering the subject of the shout, it was not hard to find the direction in which they needed to find that eccentric person, Romulus.

The cloaked trio entered the refugee camp of Bitter Springs after a quick check was performed and it was determined that they were not, in fact, Legion saboteurs. The tall figure scoffed at the notion, well knowing that no saboteur could achieve anything as long as the glorious statuesque person continued his patronage of the camp. They just silently stood there, basking in the glory of Romulus. Though they couldn't help but observe a group that clearly stood out. Four persons, out of them - two locals, a super mutant and a ghoul - that was determined by the trio from limited knowledge they had of the Wasteland Earth. Considering that they had no info beyond that, the cloaked three decided to keep a keen eye on them and not yet reveal themselves.
Edited by Yarne & Nah, Jan 24 2018, 08:56 AM.
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Fall-From-Grace
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"This man's attracting quite the crowd."

The woman speaking looked as though she'd made a halfhearted attempt to blend in rather than standing out, with limited success. She'd settled on a brown duster and a long black skirt, not too unusual, although she somewhat ruined the effect by being visibly unarmed - a sure sign of a non-native. Her long blonde hair, though pulled back in a loose tail, was far too well-kept for even the citizens of the newly prospering Bitter Springs, unless Romulus had been secretly bringing shampoo and conditioner in. Still, if she was a bit of an obvious fish-out-of-water, at least you had to look closely to realize it. The woman with her, on the other hand...

"By design, I'm sure. Look at him, he loves it."

Her hair was shocking white, adulterated by only the barest hint of silver-grey, and styled elaborately and asymmetrically. She wore some sort of complicated-looking pink wrapped dress that hung off one shoulder and ended in an asymmetrical skirt, held together with a thin gold belt. While it could certainly be seen as flattering, in a statuesque sort of way, the outfit would have stood out most places, let alone out here. On the other hand, Romulus was doing a fantastic job of holding everyone's attention. Even the first woman was studying the man from a distance, curiously appraising his mannerisms and appearance, although the second woman was focused mostly on the bystanders.

"There's definitely something odd about him. The magic that I'm detecting here is unlike anything I've seen before. It's as if he's a living piece of sorcery."

The blonde woman's eyes glowed faintly, the lingering remnants of a basic prayer to detect magical auras. Her own magical aura was more subtle, but still definite; a shimmer of secondhand divine power, a patina of more conventional magic, and a faint whiff of brimstone. Fall-from-Grace, the chaste succubus, the cleric who served no gods. The white-haired woman, Sialeeds Falenas, was entirely human, except for a shining source of power on the back of each of her hands.

"He is pretty easy on the eyes, though."

Sialeeds smirked at the ridiculously exaggerated distress of the young boy hollering at Romulus for his scantily-clad theatrics. The two women had showed up in the wasteland more out of curiosity than anything; some of the rumors about this "Romulus" were just too interesting to pass up. Fall-from-Grace had done some quick studying on the flight over, confirming what she'd absorbed from the news and gossip; the name the odd man was using was that of the legendary founder of Rome on many Terra worlds. What the significance of that name was remained to be seen, but Fall-from-Grace didn't intend to leave without a better idea of what was going on.
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Andras
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Esther, Agent of the Shapers, mingled with the crowd, attempting to gauge the attitude of the refugees and onlookers alike toward the antics of the strange man who called himself Romulus. Unfortunately, most of the residents, though wary of his motives, seemed mostly to approve of the enhancements the man had made. She shook her head at the thought - a part of her, one she'd been trying to nurture since her time on Sucia, insisted that she shouldn't begrudge these people the meager improvements the man had brought them, but the reflexive habits of her training could feel nothing but irritation for the fact that his presence made their plans so much more difficult.

It was a straightforward plan: provide certain range of infrastructure improvements and labor investments to one of the many beleaguered outposts of humanity on this world - say, Bitter Springs, for instance - in exchange for the erection and maintenance of a small research station where Andras could expand his research into radiation-absorbing flora. The Shaper could begin collecting more of the data he needed to further his goals, the locals would receive a framework on which to build their currently nonexistent economy, and with any luck the relationship between the two would become something that - in years or decades to come - could be leveraged to bring this region under the Shaper's eminent guidance. She found herself conflicted about supporting that last objective, but the immediate advancement of these individuals and the possibility of eventually cleansing this world of the hellish toxins pervading it were things that she could not in good conscience refrain from pursuing.

The only problem at this stage was that they had arrived exactly one day late. Instead of arriving to find a neglected and undirected populace, they had found one utterly in thrall to the spectacular feats of this mysterious, superhuman benefactor. Esther had made a decision to convince Andras to stay concealed in the hills with the supply wagon and the majority of their tribal guards while she and Mez infiltrated the camp to investigate whether the plan could be salvaged. It was, in her professional opinion, a definite maybe.

She found a wall to lean against near the back edge of the crowd and studied the golden giant of a man. His physique was impressive, as was his efficiency and his willingness to provide for the ordinary humans around him. Were he to become a ruler here, they would most likely be able to convince him to support their efforts, but it seemed he was intent on leaving soon for some business involving the Legion. Just the thought of that particular group made her want to spit; she despised slavers.

A breeze interrupted her contemplations, though not through any intrinsic property: it had tugged Romulus’ cloak away from his body, eliciting a rather impassioned disapproval of the clothing beneath, which in turn drew a faint smile to Esther’s stern features.

"Oh, I don’t know," a pleasant tenor voice said from just outside of her peripheral vision, “I'm certainly not complaining."

Esther turned her head to see a sandy-haired young man of middling height flanked by two tribal youths. It took a moment before she recognized him. "Mezzeryn..." she said warningly, returning her gaze to the crowd.

"Oh, don't give me that, ma'am," Mez said, stepping closer and dropping his voice to a low murmur, "You've had me constantly switching back and forth for almost twelve hours straight. I'm half amazed I remember which face I'm wearing, let alone what... scenery I'm supposed to be admiring." He punctuated this with an exaggerated leer toward the golden man.

Esther huffed. "Have you learned anything useful?"

"Not sure yet, unless you count people being happy to have actual walls to live in. But we knew that already." His eyes drifted from the giant to a white-haired woman in the crowd across from them. "I think I might try talking to some of the newcomers and see if they know anything we don't." He grinned and stepped back. "I'll be around. Don't wait for me."

"Mezzeryn!" The Agent hissed, but when she turned she found that the man and his escort had already vanished.

- - -

Several dozen steps away and safely out of earshot Mezzeryn paused as one of his Tribal escorts tugged at his sleeve.

"Smiling One..." the man hesitated.

Mez turned. "You know, as much as I appreciate the goddess treatment now and then, I'm not actually divine. Go ahead and spit it out."

The Tribal seemed to consider for a few seconds before continuing. "Is... your difficulty, is it true?" There was concern in his voice.

The shapeshifter shrugged. "I may have exaggerated slightly."

"Is it wise to lie to the Director of Guards?" the other Tribal asked.

"Probably not," Mez said, grinning impishly, "but the look on her face was worth it."
Edited by Andras, Jan 24 2018, 02:28 AM.
You cannot unring a bell.

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Parsee Mizuhashi
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Green-eyed Monster

Romulus only laughed out loud at Alter’s scandalized screeching, grinning and gesturing to his chiseled body. “Fool! Roma’s sculpted perfection can’t be covered by mere fabric! Its radiant glory will always shine through! This body, like Roma, deserves to be observed and loved by all!” He flexed his muscles like a bodybuilder, winking to the crowd. “Isn’t that right, ladies?”

Catcalls and whoops from many of the females refugees, and even a few of the men, made the Lancer laugh even more. To say he loved the attention didn’t even begin to describe how much he clearly loved this. He was practically glowing from all the attention.

The notion was not shared by Alter, who kept his eyes covered with his hands. “P-please, please tell me we can get out of here! I can’t take this! He’s worse than the drugged up whore guys from Gomorrah! Kids shouldn’t see this! ...Guys? Guuuys. Guuuuuys...!?”

Ignoring the whining Conductor, even as he gradually increased in volume and pitch, the rest of the group conferred together. Dog simply stared at Romulus with his face pinched in confusion. Dean stroked his chin in thought. Parsee mirrored the ghoul’s pose, once she gathered her thoughts after the...rather nice first impression of Romulus. Thankfully, envy over his sculpting and happiness as the center of attention mellowed certain distracting thoughts out.

“Roma...Yes Man’s mentioned that, right? About Caesar’s plans?” Parsee asked, drawing a nod from Dean.

“Caesar wants a Nova Roma...a new Rome. Explains why he wants to meet the Legion.”

“Guuuuuuuuuys.”

Brows pinching together, Dean continued. “He’s clearly obsessed with Rome, and with a name like Romulus...I’m not exactly an expert on history, but I wonder...”

“He might be the founder. Definitely someone important.” The hashihime shrugged. “Or the biggest Rome fanatic ever, maybe even more than Caesar...”

”Guuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuys!”

“...He’s not from here though. He’s magical...but I don’t know what he is exactly. He’s not human, but that’s all my senses can tell me.”

“...If he approves of the Legion, this could be problematic. If Caesar’s following of Roman customs are truly accurate...” Dean grimaced. “We’ll have to see. We definitely need to follow him on this trip. For now, let’s stick to the pla—“

”GUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUY—!!”

“Alter!” Parsee spun around and glared at the boy, instantly quieting him. “We’re not leaving! You heard what we said; don’t try to act like you weren’t listening. So just...just stay here while Dean and I take care of business, alright?”

The boy whimpered. “I’m going to fucking stab my eyes out...” Which drew an exasperated sigh from Dean and an utterly uncaring roll of the eyes from Parsee.

“I’m sure that your precious little knife would gladly help you there.” She said. That instantly made Alter move his hands and glare at her, but it was way better than the crying, honestly. Waving dismissively, she and Dean walked off in opposite directions to mingle with the crowd. “Stay with him, Dog.”

While the super mutant nodded, Alter stared at Parsee’s retreating form like he was trying to burn her with his red-eyed gaze. That was a low blow, though a pretty tasteful one all things considered. Still, perhaps he should let Keiro check out her eyes, instead...his train of thought derailed as he felt eyes looking at him. Craning his neck, he looked back at the three cloaked figures that had arrived. He hummed to himself, wondering how long they’d been standing there.

He smiled at them, although it was perhaps just a bit to wide and bright to be truly friendly. “Ooh? More weirdos like us? This...” He grimaced, eyes glancing in Romulus’ direction but not daring to actually look at him. ”Disgusting manslut really brought in people from all over, huh?”

Meanwhile, after a bit more boasting and grandstanding for the crowd, Romulus’ gaze went out to the crowd, seemingly looking for someone. His eyes settled for a few seconds on one of the cloaked figures...then they swept up to stare at the rooftop corner of one his metal shacks. He smirked. “Servants! I sense your presence...both of you. Please, stand proudly! Size your legends up with that of the most glorious civilization! Fear not, for at this time, we are not enemies!”
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Yarne & Nah
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The quartet was... obnoxious. And quite unpredictable. But there were some peculiarities that all three have noticed, like how the boy was dramatic... and very loud. The mutant was not big on words. But he seemed to be loyal to that bunch. That'll prove troublesome if they become opponents. Having exchanged what they have noticed with each other, the tallest figure has turned to face Romulus, and the other two soon followed suit.

"Thank you for invitation, esteemed Founder, but. My legend is not something I can simply expose before everyone. And before you," the military man spoke, "But introductions would be indeed polite to exchange. You may call me Imperial Rider." With these words, he dropped the cape from his head, fully revealing his well-aged face and rich brown hair.

The caped boy and girl, though, did not speak after their leader did, even if they exchanged some nods. Almost as if there was some unspoken agreement between the two, on how to proceed. They separated from Rider into the crowd, eavesdropping for unusual conversations. Their aim was to find out if there were other groups of newcomers beyond them and the weird quartet... and, well, the second Servant that was felt by Romulus.

Using the opportunity to talk with Romulus, Rider asked, "I take it you do not approve of the man who claimed the title of Caesar?"
Edited by Yarne & Nah, Jun 22 2018, 01:43 PM.
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