Chapter One Part One
Navarro
Well-known member
Idea originally by @DarthOne.
Within Mount Whitney, Former State of California
18 June 2241
Paladin-Commander Lyons was not a man who balked when war needed to be waged. As Adjutant to Elder Hendricksen of Shady Sands, he was his lord’s chief servant in peace or war, and he had often fought vicious tribals or raiders in battles. The Brotherhood’s foes had often met their end from his laser rifle. But this … what was happening at Vault 13 felt wrong.
Bloodied corpses, in shreds from rampant minigun fire, littered the entrance hall of the facility, Vault security men who had refused the order to surrender. From outside of it, a steady stream of individuals were still being marched out. Most would be enserfed, set to labour in agricultural or minor technical roles within the Brotherhood. The children under the age of five would be incorporated into the Brotherhood proper after being separated from their parents. And of course, the irresponsibly-used technology within Vault 13 would be confiscated for study and use by the Brotherhood.
There was already a pile of pip-boys on the cave floor, taken at gunpoint. Many of the dwellers had wept on removing items that had defined their existences, and Lyons couldn’t help but feel pity for them. Such a strong attachment to material goods had been one of the decadent nature of pre-War America; the corporations that cared nothing for ethics or well-being in a ruthless chase for the bottom line, the relentless consumerism and greed, the selfishness of individuals racing after their own desires and buying things they didn’t truly need. All of that had helped put the nails in the Old World’s coffin, and as such they had no place in the new. The Brotherhood’s purpose was to control the use of advanced technology to prevent another such cataclysm, even if that meant making hard choices.
It was hard to watch as children were cut off from crying mothers. The Brotherhood weren’t monsters in enforcing their doctrine, but their steel hardness looked that way sometimes to outsiders, though it was born of necessity. Lyons took a deep breath. He remembered the stories he had been told, of the FEV experiments, the depraved scientists who had to be slaughtered to put a halt to their madness before the War. And its repercussion in more recent times, the Master and his horde of super mutants. The green brutes had almost unseated mankind as masters of the world, going so far as to attack Lost Hills during their reign of terror. Paladin Rhombus had died in the defence, a hero still remembered almost a century later. That wake-up call had been what drew the Brotherhood out of its isolation.
If not for us, how long would it have taken for another Master to rise up?, Lyons thought. Or something worse. This was the reason for the Brotherhood’s vigil over mankind. Indeed, three years ago soldiers in flying machines had tried to disturb the Mariposa Base where all the ugliness had started. Clad in strange armour, they’d nevertheless been defeated – some of them, taken captive, had claimed to still be fighting for the old United States government. Those ramblings didn’t trouble Lyons so much as the fact that their base of operations, and what they’d wanted with the base, was still unknown.
He looked as more sunken-eyed people were taken out of the Vault, the families being stripped of the youngest children but otherwise kept intact before their pip-boys were confiscated and they were marched back up out of the pit. Though the Brotherhood wouldn’t break up families, the Vault’s inhabitants would be spead across the Brotherhood’s domain. In time, Lyons hoped they’d find fulfillment in serving the Brotherhood as it carried out its centuries-old mission to protect humanity from itself. Finally the deluge of captives upward ended and the salvage teams began their work.
Their business would take far longer. Computers, weapons, terminals, reactors, life-support systems – everything would be stripped out of this barren pit of Old World arrogance. There were places that could better use the technology within the Brotherhood’s web of bunkers and outposts stretching across great reaches of what had been California. In time Vault 13 would be nothing but a shell – an empty husk that served as yet another grave for the mistakes of the Old World. But still, Lyons thought as a flicker of rebellion danced across his eyes, is all this truly necessary?
He sighed. He thought that sometimes, but he knew those heretical ideas, met up against the Codex's words and the judgements of history, were wrong. The society of the Old World had destroyed itself, and so would humanity do so again without the wisdom and stern guidance provided by the Brotherhood. It’s the only way, another voice insisted. What else can we do?
Within Mount Whitney, Former State of California
18 June 2241
Paladin-Commander Lyons was not a man who balked when war needed to be waged. As Adjutant to Elder Hendricksen of Shady Sands, he was his lord’s chief servant in peace or war, and he had often fought vicious tribals or raiders in battles. The Brotherhood’s foes had often met their end from his laser rifle. But this … what was happening at Vault 13 felt wrong.
Bloodied corpses, in shreds from rampant minigun fire, littered the entrance hall of the facility, Vault security men who had refused the order to surrender. From outside of it, a steady stream of individuals were still being marched out. Most would be enserfed, set to labour in agricultural or minor technical roles within the Brotherhood. The children under the age of five would be incorporated into the Brotherhood proper after being separated from their parents. And of course, the irresponsibly-used technology within Vault 13 would be confiscated for study and use by the Brotherhood.
There was already a pile of pip-boys on the cave floor, taken at gunpoint. Many of the dwellers had wept on removing items that had defined their existences, and Lyons couldn’t help but feel pity for them. Such a strong attachment to material goods had been one of the decadent nature of pre-War America; the corporations that cared nothing for ethics or well-being in a ruthless chase for the bottom line, the relentless consumerism and greed, the selfishness of individuals racing after their own desires and buying things they didn’t truly need. All of that had helped put the nails in the Old World’s coffin, and as such they had no place in the new. The Brotherhood’s purpose was to control the use of advanced technology to prevent another such cataclysm, even if that meant making hard choices.
It was hard to watch as children were cut off from crying mothers. The Brotherhood weren’t monsters in enforcing their doctrine, but their steel hardness looked that way sometimes to outsiders, though it was born of necessity. Lyons took a deep breath. He remembered the stories he had been told, of the FEV experiments, the depraved scientists who had to be slaughtered to put a halt to their madness before the War. And its repercussion in more recent times, the Master and his horde of super mutants. The green brutes had almost unseated mankind as masters of the world, going so far as to attack Lost Hills during their reign of terror. Paladin Rhombus had died in the defence, a hero still remembered almost a century later. That wake-up call had been what drew the Brotherhood out of its isolation.
If not for us, how long would it have taken for another Master to rise up?, Lyons thought. Or something worse. This was the reason for the Brotherhood’s vigil over mankind. Indeed, three years ago soldiers in flying machines had tried to disturb the Mariposa Base where all the ugliness had started. Clad in strange armour, they’d nevertheless been defeated – some of them, taken captive, had claimed to still be fighting for the old United States government. Those ramblings didn’t trouble Lyons so much as the fact that their base of operations, and what they’d wanted with the base, was still unknown.
He looked as more sunken-eyed people were taken out of the Vault, the families being stripped of the youngest children but otherwise kept intact before their pip-boys were confiscated and they were marched back up out of the pit. Though the Brotherhood wouldn’t break up families, the Vault’s inhabitants would be spead across the Brotherhood’s domain. In time, Lyons hoped they’d find fulfillment in serving the Brotherhood as it carried out its centuries-old mission to protect humanity from itself. Finally the deluge of captives upward ended and the salvage teams began their work.
Their business would take far longer. Computers, weapons, terminals, reactors, life-support systems – everything would be stripped out of this barren pit of Old World arrogance. There were places that could better use the technology within the Brotherhood’s web of bunkers and outposts stretching across great reaches of what had been California. In time Vault 13 would be nothing but a shell – an empty husk that served as yet another grave for the mistakes of the Old World. But still, Lyons thought as a flicker of rebellion danced across his eyes, is all this truly necessary?
He sighed. He thought that sometimes, but he knew those heretical ideas, met up against the Codex's words and the judgements of history, were wrong. The society of the Old World had destroyed itself, and so would humanity do so again without the wisdom and stern guidance provided by the Brotherhood. It’s the only way, another voice insisted. What else can we do?
