Autumn's Tale, My attempt to put to "paper" the story of my FO4 character Options

[ArtemisNoir]

OK...*deep breath* here goes.
I've thought about actually writing down this story for several years, but, for one reason, or another, I've never quite managed beyond a sentence or two. Right now, my life is topsy turvy, but, ironically enough, it's also a good time to begin. Both encouraged by, and inspired by, Renee and Treydog, I've mustered the courage to finally post. Some notes first, though:

* Anyone familiar with the game will observe I'm using mods. I don't go overboard, or anything, but there are changes.
* This fiction is based on the main events of the game, but, sometimes, there will be differences in the details.
* I have tried to strike a balance between enough exposition so that anyone who doesn't know the game won't feel lost, while those that do won't be overly bored. I'm not sure how well I'm succeeding, but it's something that will evolve as it progresses.
* I'm hoping to post an installment once per week, each entry consisting of somewhere between 600 and 900 words. So... not huge chapters, but they're manageable. Right now, I'm not having any trouble getting out the words, so perhaps I'll eventually increase the schedule. As I wrote though, I'm also distracted by RL, so I'll see how it goes.

~ ~ ~

Entry 1: Awoken



Her first sensation was one of light. Searing and brilliant, it was nearly an assault after her struggle through Vault 111’s dimly lit passageways. Long moments passed, and then, perhaps jolted by realisation, as well as the view before her, Autumn gasped, reeling.

The Vault had been constructed on a small hill, and from her relative vantage point, she took in the wreckage of her home, and the small suburban neighbourhood in which she….no… they… had lived. The urge to scream and flail wildly almost overwhelmed her; somehow, maybe it was instinct, she repressed it.

Trying to steady her breathing, Autumn attempted some level of coherent thought. Time blurred, only the sun’s high position in that blazing, cerulean sky told her that no more than a few minutes had elapsed. Grappling with the stark certainty of her circumstances, and for want of a more obvious plan, Autumn slowly began to make her way down the hill, noting, despite herself, the dappled display of sunlight that glittered through the verdant canopy overhead. This, though, made her pause. The trees surrounding her towered high, their trunks gnarled and witness to countless seasons. Although she remained on the edge of hysterical panic, walking had calmed her somewhat, and it was impossible to ignore the onslaught of her thoughts.

“Those trees were hardly more than saplings..... how much time has passed?” she muttered. Her only answer was a strident caw somewhere deep within the leafy branches. “A crow?” she queried. Autumn shook her head, recalling the giant cockroaches that had impeded her progress through the vault. She, no doubt, needed to worry about whatever wildlife existed in this surreal new reality, but crows represented the least of her concerns. Another thing of note was that the path she followed, familiar, yet not, appeared oddly clear of debris, and an obvious attempt had been made to prune the bushes that sprawled alongside it. Autumn found herself unsure whether these observations provided comfort or unease.

A few steps further brought her to a small wooden bridge that traversed a glittering stream.
Miraculously, both were much as she remembered. Memories…. Autumn closed her eyes, flicking them open again as a surge of nausea threatened. Shaking, she lowered herself to the bridge, sitting down, her legs dangling just above the burbling water. Had she not seen her husband shot at point-blank range as he attempted to protect Shaun, their infant son, from kidnappers, mere hours before, and were it not for the grimy pastel-coloured rubble she could glimpse through the trees, it would have been almost idyllic.



Aware that she could not rest for long, Autumn attempted to stand. She swayed, light-headed; a sudden growling made her tense, but at a second wave of nausea she realised that it was her stomach, and she remembered her last meal, a bowl of Sugar Bombs and the coffee that had been prepared by Codsworth, their ever buoyant Mr. Handy Robot. The day had seemed normal, even finally opening the door to that persistent Vault-Tec salesman and securing their spots in the nearby underground facility, did little to indicate the turn their lives were about to take. After that, her recollections became a tumble… cuddling Shaun, discussing their plans for the day, then, Codsworth urgently calling them to the TV. They arrived in time to hear the anchorman announcing that bombs, nuclear bombs, had dropped. Panic. Horror. Disbelief. Their rush to the vault. Fragmented images flashed through her head. Autumn lurched, and vomited the contents of her stomach. Sugar Bombs did not taste sweet the second time around.

All too mindful, after voiding her stomach, that her body was now bereft of anything that might be considered food, Autumn willed herself to push forward. Up close, the jumbled, torn rubble, the homes her neighbours had lived in, and strewn human skeletons told the harrowing story of those who had not been on Vault-Tec’s list.

For possibly the first time, Autumn’s sentiments towards Sanctuary, the suburban community in which they’d lived, were without conflict, though she did reflect that its developers had likely never intended for the name to be ironic.

Walking up the gently winding road toward her old home felt strange; Autumn remembered all those times she’d ardently wished the place could be transformed into something different; she also remembered the never-ending fights with Nate as she argued that her apartment in Cambridge was a preferable location. Now, stumbling over rubble, fallen trees and the bones of her neighbours, she experienced a bleak, deep stab of remorse. A wave of memory engulfed her, and the impossible brightness of the day faded into black as Autumn teetered to the broken ground.



This post has been edited by ArtemisNoir: Apr 21 2023, 07:38 PM

[ArtemisNoir]

Sorry for the late update! Real life and some technical headaches, combined with having become immersed in Dragon Age Origins, so it was a bit difficult to switch gears, since they're such different games.

@Treydog,
indeed.... I rather imagine Autumn has decidedly mixed feelings on the "wonders" of technology....

I agree! It has always struck me as odd that the game allows you to just step into fully functional sets of power armour (that have been standing out in the elements for 200+ years), especially because one of the NPCs/companions you meet later on will, in fact, express concern over his PA rusting when he's out in the rain for just an hour or so.

Thanks

@Acadian,
Thank you... It's difficult, because raiders really are scum, but even so, they're still people, and.... compassion is sort of Autumn's Achilles Heel.

@SubRosa,
Yep! As I mentioned to Treydog, there's no way that old PA should STILL be working!
*grins*... Ah yes... Gristle...



~~~

Entry 7: The Monster



It was possible he had neither heard the roar, nor the warning; or perhaps, he'd been wholly consumed by rage. Running into the road, still intent upon his pursuit, Gristle did not notice the creature that now barrelled toward him.

A musket shot rang out.

Gristle began to respond. Then, realising he had not, in fact, been the target, he instinctively turned in the direction Preston was firing. Immediate panic took hold, and the raider, in a blind rush, bolted across the road and into an alley.

Autumn, making no move, observed him, dispassionately.

The deathclaw switched course, and followed.

Moments later, they heard a single, excruciated scream.

Codsworth, fortunately, at that juncture, had the presence of mind to seize Autumn’s arm, and spur her toward the building where they’d previously sheltered. Autumn winced upon crossing its threshold, but she knew the creature that had just slain Gristle posed a far greater threat than the recollection of her recent narrow escape.

Intact stairs led to a second floor, and then another set to a third. Even better, the building’s uppermost floor had an adjoining balcony, and it was here, concealed by a large post, that Autumn crouched. She turned to the robot, “Codsworth, please don’t engage the deathclaw up close, it needs to be taken out at range, you heard what it did to Gristle.” Although unhappy, Codsworth appeared to acquiesce.

It did not take long before the deathclaw emerged from the alley. Snout and incisors stained dark red, it raised its head to sniff the air. Autumn aimed; although she hit the beast, she was too far to really inflict harm. She did, however, succeed in attracting its attention. The deathclaw, eyes blazing, lunged, and loped toward the building. Once more, Autumn fired; the second shot delivered slightly more damage, but, even so, she may as well have been tossing pebbles at the thick, scaled hide.

She was reminded of legendary creatures from mythology.“At least it can’t fly or breathe fire,” muttered Autumn, as she readied her musket.

Fuelled by frustration and anger, the deathclaw again roared, and swiped at the balcony; splinters and battered tiles swept into the dust below. The balcony shook. Autumn, cranking the musket, let loose a torrent of profanity; had it been possible, Codsworth would have blushed.



Suddenly, they heard a shot from the museum's balcony, “Hey ugly, over here!” yelled Preston, loudly, cranking his weapon again.

The deathclaw turned, uncertain, and headed toward the new source of irritation. As it advanced in the direction of the museum, Autumn moved further to the balcony’s edge, and, with some reluctance, reached for her remaining grenade, pulled the pin, and launched it at the deathclaw. The acrid stench of burning hide assaulted her, and the creature pitched sideways. After a moment, however, still on fire, it righted itself, and continued its path toward the museum.

The whirring crank of Preston’s laser musket intensified, and a ruby flare rushed toward the enraged beast; briefly illuminated by a faint red glow, it roared in obvious pain.

From the corner of her eye, Autumn observed a metallic figure rapidly manoeuvring toward the deathclaw. “Codsworth!” she yelled. Flames and spinning saw engaged horns and gaping maw.



Preston again cranked his weapon, and Autumn, unable to bear the thought of potentially losing Codsworth, ran down the stairs, and into the road for a closer shot. As if timed, the simultaneous whoosh of two laser muskets joined, and, in an instant, what had resembled a being from nightmares, capable of snuffing out life with a single swipe of its claw, dissipated into a smouldering pile of ash.



Kneeling beside cooling ashes, Autumn felt regret. Despite the fear that had coursed through her during the battle, she’d also experienced awe. The creature had possessed a certain majesty, and although it had been driven by instinct, she’d seen the unequivocal spark of intelligence in its eyes. Grabbing a small box she’d found, Autumn gently scooped the ashes into it, and placed the container into her pack. Codsworth gave her a perplexed, musing look, but said nothing.

Preston Garvey and his group were gathered to welcome them on the museum’s lower floor. “That…that was an impressive display…. I’m sure glad you’re on our side,” he said.

Autumn raised her eye, “I don’t think I’d exactly call it impressive, and besides, I was hardly alone. I’d be dead if it hadn’t been for you and Codsworth.” Dogmeat bounded up to her, and whined. “When you guys went out there, it was everything we could do to keep him with us,” explained Preston. Autumn knelt down, and burrowed her head into the soft fur, murmuring. “Hey, it’s OK, boy, we’re fine now.”

More collected, Autumn stood and surveyed the group. Suddenly remembering something, Preston approached, dug into his pocket and offered her a large pile of bottle caps. “I know we didn’t say anything about it, but here, you deserve these.”



Confused, Autumn looked at Codsworth for direction. The robot, realising the situation, quickly explained, “Bottle caps are used as currency now, Ma’am.”

Taken aback, she shook her head at Preston, “I didn’t do it for any reward, you guys were in trouble.”

It was Preston’s turn to be surprised. “I… are you sure? Seriously? I mean, sorry, it’s just… that’s pretty unusual these days,” he stammered. Then, another thought struck him, “Hey, you know what, you should come with us to Sanctuary.”

This post has been edited by ArtemisNoir: Apr 21 2023, 10:36 PM