My new fic. Furrout: New Vegas

[Lion King Stu]

That would be the typical way of starting it like the games alas I wanted to try a different angle on that one ...I will get that inthe story eventually just not right off the bat if I can help it
Hope you enjoy the rest of it none the less when you get around to doing so :3

[Lion King Stu]

Well I have been very busy lately with the navy lately so haven't been able to dedicate a whole lot of my time on story writing. I have finally had a few hours the last day or so with things being just a little more calmer to get a very rough draft of chapter 1 finally done. I will be going back at some point so that I can get the prologue and touch this chapter up to correct a whole load of pending grammatical errors, spelling mistakes. Just really wanted to see what everyone sort of makes of it and as always would like some guidance about what they like and what they don't so I can improve in the future on other chapters I do.

I will give some warning now this story is pretty much going to be for the age ranges of 15/18+ as it will contain quite a lot of violence, blood...and maybe some of the naughty in the future....*coughs*

Anyway I hope you enjoy :3

I have noticed the swearing filter is on as well, there is a fair bit of that in the fic as well sadly...I will be eventually posting that on Fur Affinity as well which I will eventually link here as well.

Furrout: New Vegas
Chapter 1 : Couriers

"It is said war - war never changes. Men do, through the roads they walk"

So, where does a lion possibly begin with trying to explain how I ended up in the sandy, rocky wasteland known as the Mojave? How, and why I decided on the paths in life to walk upon? I guess the only way to make any real sense of it is to firstly turn back time to the month of April, on the 19th day in the year 2266 in a small settlement known as Roach. A small, safe haven 4 days hard trekking west of the Mojave outpost, close to the long 15. A settlement that got its well earned name from the frequent infestation of giant radroaches (big mutated versions of cockroaches) that turned up time to time but caused no real harm or trouble to the small community which we were, generations on, quite the experts and efficient in the extermination of the mutated bugs.

Our town wasn't the biggest but it had a small hub for the occasional trading caravans that used to travel the long 15, one of my earliest memories are those of seeing the two headed brahmin (mutated versions of cattle) up close, loaded with goods come into town led by their traders and guards. We also had a small wooden saloon called 'The Water Hole' in the middle of town where a majority of the population spent a lot of their free time, a small church a few buildings down which doubled its use as a small school and a general store in the settlement itself among the homes of the population. On the outside was a ranch, its lands spreading out far into the distance as the eye could see, the grass not perfect, most of the time on the shade of light brown with some green, but just about right for the brahmin herd to be kept content and full. Some of my fondest memories is being out with my father in the fields, watching the sun go down in the distance while he smoked, telling me stories of what it was like outside the boundaries of the ranch and the settlement walls which I suppose heavily fueled my desire to one day leave and see the world outside for myself.

I was born into this world to my young, school teacher mother, Aluna Moonlight and my middle aged, ranch hand of a father, Bomani. They decided to call me Twilight Leonardo Moonlight, my mother had her way with the name, she didn't give my father much in the way of a choice, it was just less hassle to just accept it, but did so, under an ultimatum that my middle name be that of his father which my mother, thankfully accepted. They were a happy couple, much like everyone in the settlement back in those easy, peaceful days where no real trouble had been seen or experienced in many long years, now forgotten to the pages of history.

I grew up an only child, I guess it was down to being quite the handful growing up that my parents didn't seem to want to go through all the hassle for another like me on their hands again, even with my mother being a school teacher, putting up with other children is one thing, putting up with your own is quite the other. However, they loved me dearly none the less as much as I loved them back and did everything a loving parent could do to see me grow up right, I tried to do right in their eyes but as children do I got myself into my own fair share of scrapes and mischief that made me see many a time the back of my fathers hand and the disappointed look of my mother. As the years went by and I turned the age of 9 I was growing up strong and charismatic like my father, smart like my mother, that was the year things changed for the worst in my life.

Many long, peaceful years had come and gone when I was growing up, I can't remember anything more bad happening apart from the odd radroach bite when they showed up, I think someone even accidentally shot himself in the foot after drinking too much of Elton McClaire's home made moonshine in the Watering Hole before trying to clean his revolver. I had always heard my fathers stories about raiders and all the other evils in the world, being in such a quiet and peaceful environment you never think such a day would come when the bad things come knocking on your very door. The town was set upon by a gang called the Marauders, a newly formed gang of escaped criminals, convicted murderers and low life, junky scum picked up along the way, the sort of type who'd never shy from killing adults to even children, most of the members originating from the Mojave reaching out to pastures untouched in search for riches and blood.

They came into town one evening before sundown, it was pretty much a normal day like any other, when everyone put down tools and sought refuge in their homes or at the bar for well earned rest and relaxation. The gang didn't have too many in the way of numbers, didn't truly have much in the way of great conditioned weapons be it guns or hand to hand weaponry, the town itself outnumbered them easily 15 to 1, but sometimes extreme violence, confusion, being out of your mind on drugs and single mindedness on a goal can turn the tide in the face of such odds.

The next twenty or so minutes that passed went in a blink of an eye, the town in the end managed to survive and kill all the gang members but paid a heavy price for its defense, my mother and father were both killed, blown up in the room next to my own in a hail of grenade shrapnel as I cowered and hid under my own bed. It was hours before I came out from my hiding place, my fathers last words still ringing in my ears to hide and not come out until he told me to do so, when the fighting stopped and the words didn't come, I remained until some of the other villagers came to see if everyone else was alright. I was carried out of my home with much struggling and fighting, myself being in such a state of confusion and shock, my eyes glancing on the blood stained white sheets that were placed over the form of two bodies on the floor in front of the fireplace as I was taken away, my father shielding my mother in a protective hug at her back, sadly, none the less, it ended up still costing them both their lives.

[Lion King Stu]

The town also lost its only doctor, a handful of ranch hands and several locals that first day, sadly a few more deaths followed the following days, without anyone having the sufficient medical knowledge or skills to help the more severely injured and also those who got serious infections, there wasn't much anyone could do but keep them comfortable until their passing. The church was the makeshift hospital and morgue, the small doctors office we did have went up in flames after the unarmed doctor was riddled with half a magazine of a 9mm SMG rounds, what drugs we did have went into the raiders backpack which thankfully we reclaimed. As a community we kept our own dead to one side to be buried, the bodies of the raiders were stripped bare of anything that would be of use, ammunition, weapons and what ever meager supplies they carried before being placed in a heap on the outskirts of town to be burnt, ending the very short reign of the Marauders, however brief a time it was, leaving a massive, lasting dent in our small community.

The evidence of the fighting very clear throughout the tiny town, many broken windows, the bullet and shrapnel peppered interiors and exteriors, many buildings coated in now dried blood, the dusty and cracked path down the middle of town covered in a carpet of spent shell casings. Many weeks went by and we fixed the damage, we lived on but with a ever more careful and watchful eye on the horizon, being more suspicious of new joiners to the town or those merely passing through.

I was taken in by my fathers boss Elijah Thorn at the ranch, he took a few bullets in the fighting but luckily a majority went through clean, bar one, he walked with a painful limp where the bullet was lodged deep into his thigh, too deep and risky for even the new doctor that finally moved into our town a few months later to operate on. He taught me how to look after the ranch and do small jobs about the place, as years went on I took on more responsibilities to the point I nearly was doing what my father used to do. It wasn't the most exciting of work, some of it was quite literally ****, shoveling brahmin pies under the baking hot sun and the pleasant smells that came with it, however my spade skills were second to none, as useless as a skill in reality that was.

I finally got the courage to move back into my parents old shack when I turned the age of 15, which since the fighting was cleaned and fixed up, it had lay dormant and untouched but I felt too scared to move back in while I was still at the young age of 9, preferring to stay with Elijah and his family, to feel safe and have a family atmosphere around me. It felt too weird to sit in the living room in front of the fire at the end of the day, being in the very room just feet away from where your parents were slain in cold blood.

I had found my fathers stash of whiskey hidden away in a locked cupboard in the kitchen during the first day, I didn't quite take to the stuff right away having tried a little out of curiosity that first night. Over that next year I took to it a little more, enjoying the numbing feeling it gave to my feelings and helping me too relax and sleep some nights, my dreams often plagued by the events of that one day when the raiders came to town, visualizing what could of been their final moments in quite graphic detail and almost in slow motion, myself but a ghost, a silent, unwilling spectator. Those nights I would wake up screaming, cold sweat at my brow and shuddering under the covers, in a lot of ways it was quite pathetic I suppose. I spent a lot of time sitting beside my parents gravestone most days, sometimes until the last light of the day shining down, the long shadows slowly turned into night, total darkness apart from the light from the moon, the twinkling stars ever watching from above.

And so finally came my 19th birthday, the year I finally decided to leave the settlement of Roach, what started as a small but niggling idea in the back of my head only kept on growing, I felt like I needed to do this. With troubled thoughts and a few sleepless and whiskey filled nights in front of the fire I spoke to Elijah over a period of a few days, naturally he tried to talk me out of my decision saying it was much safer in Roach than what was awaiting in the greater unknown where raiders just like the Marauders run rampant and that wasn't including the wildlife which could be equally as dangerous as any raider. In response I discussed that I couldn't see a future being stuck in the small town for the rest of my life especially being young and that there had to be more to life than just a mundane and routine existence that would only interest me in my later years when I maybe had enough of exploring the wider world. My answer only made him smile and laugh a little, he had known my father for a very long time and said that I was just like him in his early years, finally he agreed that maybe it would be for the best for me to follow my idea after all and that I would be missed but was always welcome if I was to ever come back.

With the bottlecaps I had saved up I bought the essential supplies I thought would be good for a few days worth of traveling, my fathers weathered and aged 10mm pistol sitting in its holster at my right thigh with a full magazine. I had Elijah check over my gun and to also give me a short crash course in gun maintence and how to fire, even at 19 years old I never once had to fire a weapon, the only weapon I had ever needed was a spade, turns out that was quite effective in stopping the occasional radroach.

When the sunrose that next morning I was on the road, going further than I had ever gone before. A mixture of both excitement and nervousness coursing through my body, evident on my face and in my eyes which gave both my caravan compatriots a bit of a laugh but assured me all would be well as long as I kept a keen eye out on anything that looked slightly suspicous. I listened to their stories of places they had gone and the dangers they had experienced and seen, it filled me a little more with dread but mostly more with excitement from having lived a very sheltered and safe life which I was told was quite a rare thing in itself. They went on to talk about how people survived the nuclear war by living safetly underground in massive underground shelters called Vaults to ride it out, I wasn't too sure if they were really yanking my tail with that one, the thought of being sealed in and living burried underground for many years didn't quite appeal to me too much the more I put my mind to it.

A few days of less than eventful traveling on cracked, desert highway and finally we made it to the Mojave outpost and finally I got a good look at what civizilation was like other than my own settlement which was full of movement and voices and this was just a meer outpost. Our stop was quite brief, it felt strange to see so many different other caravans much like our own waiting to go both out onto the trail we just came and some resting up to go deeper into the Mojave and onto their own respective destinations. I took notice of many others dressed in the same uniforms and carrying assault rifles, these I was told were soldiers of the NCR (New California Republic) wearing the emblem of the two headed bear on their shoulder, the very same as the flag that lazily blew about in the soft breeze.

From having a brief conversation with another guard on another caravan he told me that they controlled and protected many areas around the Mojave pushing all the way back to a place called California which my father had mentioned a few times in stories from the many threats that ever plagued the desert and its teritories and ever made their job a headache. Even in all my years living in NCR controlled teritory we never saw the soldiers in our town, a fact that burned and angered me a little knowing that my parents maybe wouldn't of died if they had taken a little more interest in our protection, or snuff out the Maruders before we had to. The end goal of the NCR was to try and claim all regions within the Mojave and have them all under the banner of the two headed bear before making their slow crawl further east trying to annex yet more.

The only problem was while they trying to make a slow push east a faction called Caesers legion had been making a rapid advance west destroying and absorbing fallen settlements and its people into their vast army on their aggressive, rapid advance. The forces of the two headed bear and the bull faced off at opposites side of the Colorado river, the NCR stronghold of Fort Aradesh was taken by force by the legion leaving no survivors before they marched on, swarming, and took the fight onto Hoover dam itself and against the bulk of the NCR troops.