Unshelled Bullets, First Fan fiction Draught Options

[grif11]

ok, Im no writer, but heres a little prologue that should introduce the story and let non-vegas players get an idea for the setting.

Prologue

The Mojave Wasteland. Most folks think of it as a barren desert, filled with nothing but gangs of chem-crazed convicts and mutant bugs. Not a bad description, but us wastelanders see a lot more than the puddles of irradiated ooze. We made homes in the crumbling ruins of the cities, We tamed the more useful mutated animals and hell, we even made our own card game.

I'm a peace-keeper by trade. I travel from town to town, helping people with problems and putting bullets in legion skulls. Sometimes though, I'll see a pretty little nik-nak that the owner doesn't seem to be watching, and it might "go missing". I like to think of it as a bonus that they forgot to mention. Still, people love me.

While I'm sitting at a campfire, cooking up a pot of squirrel stew, Travellers sometimes spot me and have a seat next to me and my posse. They always ask me the same thing: "Go on! tell us how you got so damn famous!"
I always tell them the same thing, that I Retired from NCR and put my skills to better use. Its not a lie, but its not the whole story. I'm getting on now, and it's about time I let the world know the REAL story of Raymond Will.

Mojave wasteland:



CONSTRUCTIVE criticism welcome!

This post has been edited by grif11: Jun 4 2011, 09:36 PM

[grif11]

Chapter 2: Empty Nest

Eagle was an old man. Nearing seventy, most people knew his time was short. Sure enough, At the age of 13,
I climbed up to the dino head, only to find it abandoned. As I turned to leave, Dan, the night sniper, came
up the stairs. "Wheres Eagle?" I asked him.
"Kid, I think its best if you see for yourself." And with that, he took me by the shoulder and lead me down the stairs.

I knew straight away something was wrong. On the few times I had met dan, he wouldnt look me in the eye. Eagle said he had never trusted children, stereotyping them as thieving whelps. It was unusual for him to talk to me, let alone take me by the shoulder. He had brought me to Eagle's bungalow, the sound of soft, western music playing faintly. As I entered, I felt death greet me.

Eagle was lying in his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, with one of the followers of the apocalypse by his bedside.
"Whats wrong with him!" I whisspered nervously to her.
"Oh little one," She said in a soft tone. "I'm afraid this birds flown for the last time."
"What do you mean!" I shouted at her.
"He is in a terrible condition. I'm afraid at his age, theres nothing we can do."
She said, with that look that people give you when they want to say "Its okay to let it out."

And I did. I sat beside the follower and rested my head on the covers, letting tears fall out my eyes silently. As I cried, she put her arm around me, trying to comfort me. It didnt work. Even dan came and sat beside me, Muttering words of comfort, like "C'mon now son, he had a good life," and "We can hold a funeral if you like."

Finally, Dan left, and The follower said she would be back in the mornig. Then it was just me and Eagle, who was still staring at the ceiling."S-Son," he whispered to me, faintly. "Th-the box. desk." I leaped up and grabbed the metal box, and heard something rattling inside. Placing it next to Eagle, he muttered once more,"Open."

Carefully removing the lid, I peeked inside. A note, a satchel, and a strange computer. As I turned back to Eagle, I saw him reaching for me, shakily, with a small smile across his face. I held his hand, and could feel Tears swelling in my eyes again. "Y-you, will make me proud," he wheezed silently."Y-you are the eagle now."

And with that, he let out one last breath, and was then flying as an Eagle should. I spent that night sleeping on the stool with my head beside Eagles weathered hand, wishing I could be with him.
________________________________________________________________________________


Well, I hope its not too sappy.