War. War never changes.
When atomic fire consumed the earth, those who survived did so in great, underground vaults. When they opened, their inhabitants set out across ruins of the old world to build new societies, establish new villages, form new tribes.
As decades passed, what had been the American southwest united beneath the flag of the New California Republic, or NCR, dedicated to old-world values of democracy and the rule of law. As the NCR grew, so did its needs. Scouts spread east, seeking territory and wealth, in the dry and merciless expanse of the Mojave desert. They returned with tales of a city untouched by the warheads that had scorched the rest of the world, and a great wall spanning the Colorado River.
The NCR mobilized its army and set it east to occupy the Hoover Dam, and restore it to working condition. But across the Colorado, another society had arisen under a different flag. A vast army of slaves, forged in the conquest of 86 tribes: Caesar's Legion.
Four years have passed since the NCR held the dam - just barely - against the Legion's onslaught. The Legion did not retreat. Across the river, they gathered strength. Campfires burned, training drums beat.
Through it all, the New Vegas Strip has stayed open for business under the control of its mysterious overseer, Mr. House, and his army of rehabilitated tribals and police robots.
Dallas is a courier, hired by the Mojave Express, to deliver a package to the New Vegas Strip. What seemed like a simple delivery job has taken a turn... for the worse
Once upon a time there was a world, much like our own.
This world is gone.
The machinations and wars of man saw to every manner of apocalypse. What was left is a world as nightmarish as it is fantastical.
Gunslingers and swordsmen ply the same trade. Science, chemistry and magic are indistinguishable from one another. The monsters prey on all, but the true villains will always be human. Humans who have walled other humans in to the most violent part of The Husken Earth, The Wastelands. The Immortal Red Eyed Man sits atop this wall and uses his airships to drop experimental drugs into The Wasteland. Both mutants and parasites live under the shadow of the Abominations birthed. Monsters and men fear their brothers and sisters who fall prey to the allure of Elysium.
It's hard to tell what is more addictive, the magical drug itself or the power it promises.
{End Blurb}
[Lore] Only one wall was ever built to protect the non-cannibalistic mutants of the Grey Coast and the inhabitants of Valoria from the true Wastelands; it has fallen.
The remaining warriors built a great defense to fill the gap in the frontline wall. This outpost was overrun and the warriors that defended it became too few. They did the best they could and many died in the battles to keep the True Wastelands at bay.
Survivers became little more than wanderers, sell swords and try hard defenders of the inhabited wastes. This is the tale of one such wanderer and his mission to unite the Wastelands against the abominations created from Elysium.
This is the tale of The Wandering King and his sadistic counterpart.