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[Evan]

(That's a roleplay thread. Please, if you post here, do it as your 'character' and not 'yourself'. No smileys and abbreviations.)

Is this thing on doc? Records my words? Good.

You may call me Mr Sanguinetti. That's a pre-recorded message, that will repeat on different frequencies. I will not call myself a leader of some gang, but rather a voice of like minded individuals. We are the Society of Graverobbers. As such, we value the work of everyone who manifolds the number of the dead. If some of our friends gets caught by them, we grieve, but accept it as a common, and overally beneficial happening.

Our people doesn't share a common origin. We even have people who dug themselves out from Vaults, others never saw letters or caps before meeting us, not to mention such artifacts of our ancestors like guns. Some barely speak the wasteland common, and we can't pronounce their names. In some extreme cases, -right Mr Balta?- we had to teach them to comprehend basic principles of life like ownership or trade. Now even our less umm... sophisticated friends are comprehensive, and can use at least radio, so I can say I'm proud of them.

What I can tell about these people is that they all put aside their preconceptions, common or extraordinary beliefs and deep inherited hatreds to understand and accept the Rule of the Waste - the stronger eats the weaker. And there is always a time in everyone's life when they realize that no matter how strong you are, someone out there is stronger, and afraid to lose that state - so he's eager to crush you. The lucky ones survive that realization. Me and my friends did.

One time, I thought that it's enough if a group of people gathers together to complement each other, sharing their strenghts, and balancing out their weaknesses. And it was. My parents would be amazed to see how far we got following that principle. Hell, even I'm astonished to see one or two marvelousnesses that our people can build up of nothing more than scrap. But now I had to realize that reaching the top of a ladder only got us to the bottom of another. And we all know how it feels to be on the bottom. Defenceless, insecure, lost. It even worse after we had the illusion that we got somewhere.

So this message is for the top-dogs. If you still listening, you are probably one. Our people spread around the Waste, making fragile tents, looking for opportunities. Our net is only held together by an ever-changing radio frequency. There is no home we can return to, or where our elderly members -like me- can retire. What we need at this point is a foundation where the children and the aged can live, so our ragtag gang can prosper. We know that there are secure caves, or even buildings out there that would suit our needs. Sadly all we could find were infested by cannibals, mutants, or even worse. We can't clean those. But some people listens to that frequency who can.

So. We can't offer loyalty, nor we can expect such. That's against the Laws of the Waste. We also doesn't own untold amounts of caps, or piles of the lost technology. Our goods are used to accumulate even more resources almost instantly - but that might change as our situation evolves. Our people are eager, and capable of much. And I'm sure sooner or later someone will receive that transmission who will value the opportunity we present. Name your price. You have your means to contact us.

And if you are just some poor wasteland-bum receiving this transmission by accident, make yourself a favor - bugger off, and look for other prey. Tune on to the Enclave radio - they have cool music too. Sanguinetti out.

Was it all right doc? You can turn it off now.

[Evan]

Ragtag robed people gathers at a complex of tents at night. They arrive lonely, or in twos and threes. Some careless moves reveal pieces of shiny armors or guns wrapped in smelly hides on some of them. They band around fires, roast brahmin stakes, dispute among each other on suppressed voice, listen to music and chatter on radios. Soft tension fills the air, the biggest tent is in the center of waitful glances. A wave of silence filled with expectations spreads trough the gang, as the entrance hides of the central tent fold, and a thin, theatrical man in the remains of a suit crawls out from the cigarette smoke and mentat smell, followed by elderly robes.

'My brothers and sisters! Most of you know me in person, the rest listened to my guidance on the radio. I'm Sanguinetti, and we are the Graverobbers. It fills my hearth with joy to see that so many of you made it here today. This is indeed a historical day for our society - and not just for your presence. Yes, the rumors whispered around are true - we did receive an offer for a place that could be the foundation of our.. organization. Our elders, and some selected brave younger ones will head to negotiate with our benefactor soon. We know less about this man, but we didn't cause that much trouble or possess incredible wealths to be worthy of wasting the ammo on us - so we tend to have high expectations - so as you. Cheer for our safe, and successful return.

Also - we most likely will have some long-term guests. I have been contacted by the Armageddon Arms Company - a group of the finest craftsman, who struggles with the same situation as we do. Our success will be theirs too - if all turns out well, we will share our luck with them, spreading the trust and good intentions we have been received. Honor them, and respect their belongings even more than we do each other's, and our cooperation will be the base of a fruitful alliance. Let their lineage to prosper, and let their brethren die of old age buried along with untold treasures for the betterment of further generations.

That is all. Wait for us here to return, and don't eat all the Brahmin. If you don't hear from us in three days, you all know what to do.'

Some cheers can be heard in the crowd, some shoot in the air, but most keep their excitement to themselves, expressing it only by silent muttering while the elders return to their tent.

[OskaRus]

With tipical noise and dust cloud on horizon old highwayman arrived to tent and older man with scarred face, confederacy hat and long coat covering his metal armour stepped out of the car. He dropped his cigaret and stepped on it. "I have some old hidden place i no longer need for you. Take it that I would like seeing some young gang grow into respected force." he smiled with smile full of golden teeth waited for some representatives to jump i da car and drove them to his old rusty dustcovered base.

They arrived soon. He blew dust from terminal, it flickered to life and flow of new members to sign in and settle might begin.

[Look]

Lector, the man whose face is unknown to many due the fact he always hides it with a scarf was positioned couple of clicks away from the tent, observing everything that is happening on his scope. He saw the wastelanders taking Mr.Sanguinetti with them in the car, signaling him with a small piece of glass right before he went in. It was a sign to Radio him soon as he makes sure everything is in order.

Couple of hours later you could hear the voice on the radio.
"Sanguinetti here, we got ourselves a cave boys, we will share it with Armageddon Arms Company, its their old crafting hideout".

" Affirmative" Lector replied, "send us a location signal and we will load stuff on Hummer and head there". Most of the Graverobbers got on Hummer and went on their way, Lector stayed to pack some food and drinks, then just went for a walk in that direction. It will be a few days walk, just as he likes it. Lonely and quiet, with occasional wanderer to trade with.....or to take stuff from his dead body.

[Josh]

A group of men are standing around a highwayman, all looking at each other expectantly. A moment passes and reality dawns on them, the key has been lost. Dr Kevorkian starts interrogating the others with no results and then turns to MegaBoosher and Josh. "Would you two have any thing to add as to the whereabouts of the key?" They exchange looks, "Well..." begins one, "You see.." the other one starts. "We lost it or it disappeared, we're not really sure which. But on the upside we have a place to go to and restart operations!"

[Evan]

Dark cave, smell of smoke, mentat, brahmins and gecko-soup. Electronic tools buzz, heavy hammering covers the faint sound of some music from the radio. Robed man carry various sized and shaped, sometimes oozing packages. Sanguinetti sits infront of a flickering terminal, typing on it with one finger. He concentrates on the screen so hard, that he doesn't notices that the figures who pass behind him are buried in their work - they barely notice the suit's exited comments.

This is so exciting... The folks who stole electricity from Vault City did a great job. Hope noone will discover the cables. And that thinking engine is marvelous too. Look, I type h-e-l-l-o and it says 'hello'. And also 'bad command or filename'. Bit of rude, guess the centuries didn't go easy on this buddy. Hey, doc, do you have medicines or drugs for computers? Doc, where did you go? Amazing... Hey, there is a list of people in there... See? 'Friendly'. Well, considering how old that machine is, these people are probably dead anyways. It must be accurate - noone's friendlier than the dead. Or maybe that fellow is, who granted us this cave - let his lineage prosper and his descendants buried after long and fruitful lives with treasures worthy of kings and gang-leaders. So. De-le-te. Yes. Agree. Sure, of course I'm sure bloody machine, don't question me. Hey, I can type our names in here. Balta, do you hear me? I can teach the machine to know your name! Balta? I'll teach you to read once you have some time, than you'll be as astonished as I am. Let me make a roster.

Society of Graverobbers - Roster

Enlisted by Sanguinetti:
Balta
Rhinok
The Wyrm
Dr Buttercup

Enlisted by Largo:
Benson
Dulant
Oldie
Bogus
Tudor

Enlisted by Dr Hribek:
Chicken
Dr Tank
Dr Blossom

Enlisted by Lector:
Renfield

And of course Mr Clay, Mr Loken, Slow Eddie, the Bobs, the other Bobs, the muties, the ghouls and... I got tired, maybe I add more later as they move in, so I can remember their names.

There. Nice and clean. I'm proud of it. You did good, thinking engine. I'll get the doc to give you mentats, that will make you even smarter. But not from my own stash. Now, we only need to wait those Apocalypse Arms fellows to arrive. I'm quite excited about them. Hope they respect the living, and only steal form dead, like decent folks do. Wyrm is quite excited about their wares, he can only talk about calibers and barrel lengths and such. Well, after I saw Rhinok strolling around with that deathbringer monstrosity that looked like a bunch of pipes stitched together, I'm not surprised of anything.

Hey, do I smell gecko soup? And you didn't tell? Hey, wait for me, I was feeding the electric brain!

[Evan]

Khm-hm. Good day fellow 'robbers. Everyone reads me well? Silly question, who doesn't, can't answer anyways.

Sanguinetti speaks here, have to make an announcement. Pass the word to the rest. It's a sad day in the history of our society. The council of elders made a decision, and we have no other option than to abide. The coexistence with the Apocalypse Arms guys has ended. During the past days, we reached a point when mistrust poisons our joint operation, and some had the feeling that a backstab might occur in any moment. The council determined that the only solution in such dire situation is a preventive stab on our part. You all know what that means.

It fills my hearth with great sorrow to lose such valuable allies. You should all mourn with me - and with the elders, who bear the responsibility of making such decisions. The goods we got out of that deal hardly eases the weight of it. And allegoric grave were set in the grounds of the Colby Loop cave, symbolizing the early death of a possibly potent alliance. We will remember our common loss until memory exists. Feel free to come and light a candle here.

And Josh, Ben, and others. If you read me - hope our harsh separation doesn't leave hard feelings in you. We are all victims of circumstances and our own nature - like everyone in the Waste. You are still among the few people who know much about us, and who's lineage we respect and aid according to our possibilities. Your and your son's grave will be untouched if it depends on us. Outside is full of one's enemies. Any further mud-throwing could only result in getting more of these.

The Society of Graverobbers wishes you wealth, prosperity and a peaceful life. Sanguinetti out.

[Josh]

So it must be, for wrongs and misgivings have been exchanged between some of your and my members and it was decided between some of mine members that we would make a tent nearby and move out tomorrow. I will remember the time spent with some of you fondly and hope that they remember us so too. For the others however, a different greeting awaits. May your group continue to prosper and no grave be left undefiled.

[Pilgrim!]

Aleesha looked around, this place looked safe. But how can she know these people won't kill her in the sleep. She chuckled quietly, why would they do it, she got nothing valuable. Few days ago she listened to the transmission and she thought, that's something for her. Aleesha spent quite a few time working for herself and even if the Law was never to trust anyone, you can't live for yourself forever. One day you will bite a piece you can't chew. She laughed when she reminded herself the silly life int he Vault, so far from the real world outside and it's problems.

She streched her body and closed the eyes.

[Xarr]

The land is Dry and Hot. Out in the Wastes People die Somewhere every Second. Many people are in the Entrance of the Hub and are Working. Only one Guy stands in the Middle of the Carts and Watches the Wastes. From Time to Time people arrive and don't know What they should do now, So He helps them and explains what they could do now. He show'n them where to Find Materials and how to Build a Gun with this Stuff. Every evening He walks into the Desert. He Pushes some Rocks aside and goes Into a Tunnel behind. In this Tunnel is his safe place. He pulls the Rocks back to close this 'Gate' and Turns a Light on. He sits down, Opens a Bottle Nuka Cola and listens to the Public on Channel 0. This is what he did for a Long time. Someday he met a Young Lady, almost in the Same Age like him. He enjoyed to Talk with her and she liked it too. With the Time they came Together. But one day she did not came into the Hub. He was Searching her for Weeks until he accepted that she Is gone. Since that he Isn't in his Hometown so often. There are Rumors that he Went out in the Desert to Search for her, other Rumors say that he Killed himself because he Loved her. After a very long time, much Months he appears in Some Town, and Disappears as soon he arrived. But when he is seen People do notice that It's him. He is very known for being a funny Person. From time to Time he get's asked if he would like to go Hunt with them or Drink a bit, Dance and Sing. He joins only for the Drink. The way he Talks with the People some already believe that He Lost his Soul and does Only want to Find that Girl.

[Evan]

Loud, primal roars shattered the silence in the Wasteland morning near the camp that was once called 'Outpost 486' by some long forgotten ancestors. Pinky woke from her dream that she had about the strange grownups that allowed her to stay in their safe haven for her certain... skills. They even named her 'doctor' for the precision she can slice one's pocket with a scapel. The sound was close. Definitely human, but unintelligible. The morning was chilling, so Pinky grabbed a brahmin-hide from the nest she was sleeping in, and ran to the gate to alert the guards - or see if they are still alive.

She saw Eutropio, the skinny hispanian guy at his campfire, seemingly asleep, but grilling gecko on stick, bending his head on his rifle. Pinky never adressed the guy before, but she had no choice. 'Mister! Hey mister, wake up!' she yelled.
The welcoming glance was surprisingly calm. 'Hola child. It's all right. Did the roar wake you? You shouldn't worry about it. Come, sit here, get warm, have some food. Smells good, ehh?' Eutropio didn't move a muscle until the girl settled, than he gave her the gecko meat. 'It's one of us. You probably didn't see him yet. An aged hairy giant in rugs, rings a bell? He's from some slaughtered cannibalistic tribe. He camps nearby, but he only comes into the outpost when he finds something that he deems useful. For us. Some named him Horrendum a while ago, thou he could never have remembered a word that long.'
Pinky was chewing on the smelly meal. 'But why does he roars? Isn't there some danger out there?'
Eutropio lit a cigarette, and continued. 'There certainly is, but he can handle it. So do we. But if you are really interested, you came to the right person - I did speak to that monstrum before. Most Graverobbers don't even know he can talk. So. I know his secret. He wakes the Sun.'
'What, with that shouting?' asked Pinky looking at the guy, almost laughing.
'Certainly my child. It did wake you too, didn't it?'
'So he does that every morning?'
'Every morning since more winters than anyone could count. He might be older than anyone else I know.'
The girl was surprised. 'This is silly. The sun just wakes up.'
Eutropio swallowed a grin. 'How can you be so sure? He was doing that shouting way before you born.'
'And before he was born?'
'There were others before him.' said the hispanian 'His father thought him the incantation before he died.'
Pinky was amazed. 'And what if he dies too? You said he's old.'
Eutropio threw the cigaterre into the campfire, and looked on the sunset. 'Than the sun might just never rise again.'

[Look]

It's been a while since Lector returned to the base, two weeks almost. He was wandering around junkyard looking for a final piece on the list that Sang gave him. Tough times he thought to himself, got to walk trough whole desert once I get this thing. The search was hard and long, it was first time he had to shoot at people who didn't attack him, he stayed out of cities and took out only those who couldn't spot him. Life in a wasteland is harsh...you can't survive by making friends. The piece was hiding in the old truck buried under couple of regular car metal skeletons, but he managed to find it with a help of the owner, couple of caps do magic to the merchants, its their food...a treat they are always hungry for. He knew it would take him too long to go back to the base again on his own, water and food supplies were enough for 3 days, to walk trough the whole desert and to come to outpost would take more then a week. He did only thing he could do, went to the first abandon place he found and searched for some old electronic junk, then he made a radio.

"Lector here, outpost do you hear me?".
"Loud and clear, is the mission done ?".
"Affirmative, I'll need a pick up, out of caps, out of food, out of water almost".
"Got it, we'll prepare the car trough an hour, send us a singal on 10 seconds, we'll map it, then switch off all communications until we come, make undercover camp".
"Signaling....see you soon". Lector replied and went to area that is covered with trees so he would be a harder target to track or kill.

He was examining plans that Renfield gave him, Sang's plan seemed like an great idea, finally something original in this god forsaken land of ours. "At least we can build a machinery strong enough to get this thing running, I hope other have returned from their search as well" he mumbled to himself.The product looked like an piece of art, he only hoped it will be dangerous as much as it looks.

[Evan]

Welding lights a small corner of the Colby Loop cave, the smell of melting metal overwhelms the odor of tanned hides and boiling Rot Gut. Tudor is so occupied with fixing the most advanced laser weaponry the Graverobbes could scavenge, that he doesn't notices the huge, hairy and ragged figure who enters the delve with a shapeless bag heavier than two brahmins could move. The aged giant drops the bag on the ground, the leather rips and junk trundles all over the floor with a resounding cacophony of klanks, pushing Tudor to the edge of hearth-attack.

Jesus you moron, you could have knocked or something! My nerves weren't prepared for that!

The figure hits the cave wall so hard that it would break the arm of most people, and could have even knocked a Deathclaw unconscious, than he growls softly as a mine collapes.

Easy big man, easy, don't take it personally. I appreciate your help, really. You really deserve the name Horrendum, do you.

The giant lets another, even softer growl go, one part of it is articulated enough to contain a comprehensible 'Horr'. He audibly clenches his blood tattered fist while the scientist crouches to examine the pile of metal on the floor.

Now let's see if there's a fuel cell controller in that pile. That's a... how to say... An engine that drinks booze. You know... Remember when I spent two hours of explaining that to you? That one. So here we have... A microwave oven. Half of a lamp post. A speed bump. A road-sign. That looks like some well. A garden grill. Ahh well... Seems all of it is crap. At least you understood that what I need is made of metal. I should have emphasized that it also should be taken from cars. Cars.

CAAR...

Yeah. Demon-horses. Dead demon-horses. You know the one like...

DEMON HOORSE... KILL... KILL DEMON HOORSE...

Horrendum turns and stars walking out of the cave. Tudor has to run to keep up with the leaps of the giant while screaming 'No no!' louder and louder before the beast rips a hummer apart. To attract his attention, he tries to hit the back of the huge man for a couple of times to realize how ineffective is that. As a last resort, the scientist runs ahead of the brute waving his hands like a madman. For a moment he thinks that that bag of hair and muscle will trample over him, but the huge man finally stops.

WHAAT.

You know Horr... Forget what I said. Thanks for the help. I got it now. I missed it for the first time. That pile is full of fuel cell controllers. I just had to look harder. Thanks. You did a great job. Tell me if you need something in return. Feel free to do whatever you normally do. You are the best.

The giant stares for seconds that Tudor feels to last hours.

GOOOD.

Horrendum pushes the egghead away, and walks out of the cave. Tudor drys the sweat from his forehead, and returns to his workbench, muttering about how hard is it to get a birthday present for that mentat-smelling speedfreak buffoon Sanguinetti.

[Eternauta]

Jake had to run from one of those ugly centaurs and realized he got a bit too deep into the Boneyard ruins. He looked around, then up to the sky, and moving his eyes he checked the windows of some of the not so destroyed Old World buildings.

It looked like he was alone in that part of L.A., so he started to walk down one of the streets, with his SMG ready to shoot, but not really tense anymore.

He had not found much worth scavenging but when he was about to admit he felt frustrated, he saw a car wreck in a corner. He slowly walked there and looked for something to salvage from the old and broken vehicle, in which he found one of those chips that, according to some books Jake had read in the Followers' library, controlled the flow of power to the car's machines, "or some shit like that".

Jake picked up the controller, held it with both hands and contemplated it in silence. He knew that piece of pre War tech was not easy to find and it immediately made him remember that time when his brother decided to sell the last rare object he'd found to a new client from outside of the Boneyard.

He suddenly came back to his reality: he was alone in the middle of the ruins, where a pack of dogs or some mutated creature could appear from nowhere at anytime. He quickly put the controller in his bag and started to look for a way back to New Adytum.

He got back home way later than usual. He put his bag on the table and grabbed some jerky to fight his hunger.

It was hard for him to sleep that night until he finally decided to go to the outskirts of L.A. with a radio the next day, and try to contact some outsider to sell that fuel cell controller to, just like his brother had done before going to Shady Sands. After all, if he sold that at the salvagers' outpost, it was obvious that those annoying Regulators would find out and eventually take that controller for themselves.

[tallset]

The night was darker than a casper's soul,not even a gunshot was heard in the night
The door was kicked swiftly, a set of metal doors swung open.

A man dressed in a leather jacket and pants walked out the door. The leather was torn from years of abuse.
He was wielding a Single Action Army revolver with a revolving cylinder holding six metallic cartridges.

Six bullets more than enough to kill a man, several belts of .357 bullets hung around his person.

 He had to find out who he was in his previous life. The only information he had to go off were several scars embedded on his chest.

In the distance was a man, a scarf covered a majority of his face. The mysterious man had a feeling he had something to do with his wretched existence.

The mysterious man inserted six .357 bullets into his revolver. The cylinder spun and then stopped, the click of the hammer was heard. 
    He muttered to him self "reloading like this never felt so exciting".