Fallout Wanderers

Chapter 1

Lance kept his finger pressed down as his gattling laser mowed down legionairre after legionairre. He kept his back upright as he worked to keep the savages from coming near his wounded ally. He had seen more than once what these crazed monsters would do to their wounded enemies, or, as they called them, "profligates." The barrel of his gun was beginning to overheat. If his knights didn't show up and secure their fallen brother soon, standing over him may become more work than he's worth. "Damn it, Monroe." He cursed beneath his breath. "You just had to be the hero."
When Knight Monroe saw the legionairres carry away Scribe Kel, Monroe got that look in his eye, and Lance had seen it. It was the look he got when he was determined to get himself killed in another exciting way. This time, he came closer to death than he ever had before.
When he sprinted towards the enemy formation, he was almost instantly slashed across the torso and knocked to the ground. The soldier would have stabbed Monroe for good measure, had cheap luck not saved him. And by cheap luck, I mean Lance. He had fired an array of beams at the man, tearing his body apart to the point that the only remains were just enough for the dogs to fight over.
Another body fell, and the corpses were getting piled up to the point that the soldiers were having a hard time running to him. Lance made note of that. "Good," he thought, "another variable in my favor."
Finally, more troops rushed to the Paladin's defense. "Get him out of here!" He demanded, trying to keep his focus on the battle. Two of them grabbed an injured Monroe and rushed off. One soldier stayed by Lance's side, and they advanced their position.
The enemy numbers were dwindling, and their only advantage, which was superior numbers, was becoming obsolete. Apparently, even they could figure that out, because they finally decided to retreat, but they still made off with the scribe.
Utterly pissed off, Lance Mark let out a battle cry and kept shooting the retreating soldiers. Because of their damned Legion, in a mere month, they had turned his ten adequate troops into seven bruised up survivors. One of the casualties was the scribe, which would damage morale greatly. They all knew the fate that awaited Legion prisoners of war, which was something the troops tried not to think about too often. The other big casualty was the death of Knight Alen. Still, that was at least a quick end. A much more slow death awaited poor Kel.
Then there was Monroe. At least they still had him with them, but he wouldn't be combat ready for a while. And even when he was fixed up, he had a month of running laps around the camp for directly disobeying the order to stay put.
Lance finally cooled down, and he hesitantly eased his finger off of the trigger. Fighting on the front lines had taken a toll on his nerves, and as a result, he had dragged on through more than one sleepless night, concerned for the well being of his troops, and that of the people he fought to protect. If his mission to claim Denver failed, it could really damage the Brotherhood. It'd be a huge setback, and they may just be reduced to what the Legion has become.
Yep, that was the motivation he needed. He aggressively walked back to the meeting of the Paladins. On the outpost, there were three Paladins, and ten troops to a Paladin. If one of their troops died, it would be the fault of the Paladin they served beneath. The fact that three of Lance's people were gone was sure to be mentioned by them. He steeled himself for the criticism, pulled his helmet off, and went into the Paladin's strategy building.