Fallout NV fanfic: Old Man Courier chpt 44
34 years ago - 2247, Dry Wells…
“A tournament?” said Solmund, “huh, interesting.”
“Yup,” Oscar said, “do you remember the gold merchant I once told you about? The one they call Edward Sallow.”
“Oh, yeah, him. I remember him.”
“He’s one of the largest gold traders around these parts. Kinda like the Crimson Caravan but in Arizona. Rumor has it that he’s been going around helping all the tribes around the area, giving them jobs as caravan guards and trading with them, that sort of stuff. I still have no idea why a Follower like him would go around helping tribes, though. Anyway, apparently they’re going on an expedition way up North. Dangerous lands, has a lot of monsters. So he’s hosting a tournament in order to select the most powerful warriors in his expedition.”
“So you’re participating?”
“Yeah, he sent out invitations to the neighboring tribes, a
Fallout NV fanfic: Old Man Courier chpt 30.5
*** This is a side story that takes place after they left the Strip, on their way to the signal of the Madre***
Boone was really pissed about the old Ranger. Sol wouldn’t tell them anything on why the hell they were travelling down South. He said that he wasn’t going to Caesar’s Fort and yet they were heading down towards that very direction. Sometimes Boone had trouble figuring out what was going on inside that thick head of his.
But Sol managed to distract everybody enough with small talks and Cass’s booze to get everybody to forget about even asking where they were going. They were wandering around the outskirt of the city at this point. There were a lot of abandoned old houses around this place. There was also a large NCR farm that took up most of the space around here, the rest were just empty broken down houses or houses with boarded up doors and windows.
“Okay, question…” the old ranger said while walking, “Where do
Fallout NV fanfic: Old Man Courier chpt 43
14th January, 2248
Nice to meet you, how are you doin
My name is… well, that’s not really important right now. But you can call me Ace, I don’t really know where the name came from. I guess it may have something to do with my old buddies calling me that whenever we played cards. They called me the “Luckiest son of a Bitch in the Wasteland.” That’s probably why I stopped playing cards… or just betting in general.
Anyway, I’ll just leave this letter in this mailbox here and in hoping that somebody would care enough to pick it up and actually read it (instead of just using the paper for campfire). Do watch out for Deathclaws, though, I ran into a couple of them while walking around this place. Annoying little critters they are, there’s probably a nest around here somewhere, I might go and investigate it one of these days.
I don’t really know the purpose of thi
Fallout NV fanfic: Old Man Courier chpt 42
… Why… tell me why…
… I trusted you…why can’t things be the way they were before?
… It’s not your fault… just do it…
… Don’t worry about me… I’ll see you on the other side…
Sol sprang up from his bed breathing like a raging sandstorm. His eyes widen like a mad hungry Deathclaw. He was shaking as if his body was stored inside a freezer of some sort. He quickly glanced around and noticed that he was lying in one of the cots in the bunker. It was dark and sort of hard to see but he recognized the figure by his bed.
Arcade was nearly half asleep until he heard Sol screamed from his cold sweat. It was sort of nostalgic for Sol, it reminded him of Doc Mitchell back at Goodsprings.
“Oh thank god… you’re awake,” Arcade said much to his relief, “I guess what they say is true, you’re really too stubborn to die.
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