I am the slaver. 6'0, blonde, brown eyes, tanned skin, mid 20's. I'm currently wearing a chest piece crafted from broken power armour and armoured vault suit, with Vault 87 printed on the sleeve. My trousers are rugged, and faded blue.
The sun is starting to set, brining the hope of a cooler evening to the blazing heat of the Californian wasteland. The groups Brahmin, looking even more destitute than they usually do, shuffle, scrapping for greenery.
The slaver approaches the makeshift huts on top of a broken overpass, placed there for safety to make sure there is only one approach to the commune. He makes no attempt to hide his approach, knowing that the community is near broken, but keeps his hand close to his plasma pistol anyway. Over his shoulder is a high powered rifle, as well as a bag.
As I approach, a sentry tells me to stop and points an unloaded hunting rifle at me, hoping to bluff her way through the encounter. I shout back "Take me to your leader, I am here to trade. I am from a vault a few clicks away"
The sun is starting to set, brining the hope of a cooler evening to the blazing heat of the Californian wasteland. The groups Brahmin, looking even more destitute than they usually do, shuffle, scrapping for greenery.
The slaver approaches the makeshift huts on top of a broken overpass, placed there for safety to make sure there is only one approach to the commune. He makes no attempt to hide his approach, knowing that the community is near broken, but keeps his hand close to his plasma pistol anyway. Over his shoulder is a high powered rifle, as well as a bag.
As I approach, a sentry tells me to stop and points an unloaded hunting rifle at me, hoping to bluff her way through the encounter. I shout back "Take me to your leader, I am here to trade. I am from a vault a few clicks away"
