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An RP that takes place 100 years in the Wastes's past, roughly 2180 ish. Zilabus wants approval for the final story so this seemed like the best place to write it. I was about to do a Google Doc but this seems like an easier solution. If you have ideas about setting information place them in the talk page. The main idea is that through the magic of books our current characters are connected to a shared story from different perspectives, even though we may in actuality be miles apart. This story is about the death of an early team of Texas Rangers at the hands of a then larger enemy.

This list can and will be added to and expanded upon as necessary, or as is seen fit.

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Homosursussus19:50, October 9, 2014 (UTC) 

A great plume of dust shot out from the ancient stack of books that Amos was sorting. The old tomes were long forgotten in the back of the prison library. Amos remembered that it was Jesse who had suggested to Amos that he take up reading instead of constantly shanking people. The library did have its perks, for one Amos wasn't constantly being beaten and thrown into a solitary cell, but man was it boring. Most prisoners these days were illiterate, and those that could read could care less about the place. For entertainment nothing beat smuggled in pornographic holotapes, what could books hope to offer against a pornographic black market. Still the ghoul at reception was decent for a librarian, he judged your checkouts like a proper wine snob and insisted you weren't ready for the good ones yet. Dickishness aside he was pretty lax about making sure Amos was actually doing something.

On this particular day Amos had a bottle of toilet wine that he wanted to crack open in a back room. A bottle of wine and a quick cat nap would help pass the day along quickly. Checking over his shoulder to make sure the ghoul wasn't looking Amos slipped behind some shelves and made himself scarce. The ghoul was more concerned about the prisoners using the books for toilet paper than he was about Amos's whereabouts. A few more attacks and the library would be out of Jane Austin's novels. Crouching low in the back of the room, Amos darted from shelf to shelf on his way into the back rooms. His footsteps were careful and precise, if Amos hit the wrong floorboard a creak would alert the librarian of his presence. All he needed to do was go a bit further and then he'd claim he spent the whole day reorganizing the storage area. The ghoul would know it was a lie, but he didn't care enough to dispute it. As long as you kept up the appearance of trying he was satisfied.

With a leap of faith Amos rounded the corner and opened the back supply room door. The old crystal handle wobbled a bit but the latch still turned. Amos looked back and saw that the librarian was eagle eyed on the main entrance. That was a lucky break, it must have been chili day or something, the ghoul had a sixth sense when it came to people vandalizing books. Quietly Amos closed the door behind him and he began making his way to the corner of the room. In the corner of the room was a loose air vent that went into an old prison break room. The place was walled off years ago when the guards began abandoning the cell blocks, but the librarian found it and passed the secret on down from one assistant to the next. It became an unofficial reading room, where serious literary minds could get away from the plebs ripping up Pride and Prejudice for toilet paper. That was the dream anyway, it worked for awhile and then as prisoners came and left the club fell in interest until it was largely forgotten. Now it was Amos's drinking room, and he had a fine vintage today, a Thursday morning out of the second floor of A Block. The second floor was known for its spicy wines and high sugar content. Amos had to trade two candy bars to get a prized vintage such as this.

Worming his way into the room Amos lit one of the old lamps and took a seat on one of the folding chairs. There wasn't anything left in the room except for some light and furniture the ghoul could fold up and fit through a vent. The guards left almost nothing behind when the sealed off the room. An old radiator heater was the about the only thing left, and it was left simply because the guards didn't feel like ripping it out of the wall. Amos leaned back in his chair and tried opening up the wine bottle. The old container was a stubborn thing and the cap was sticking from the dried sugar in the drink. Amos tugged and tugged at it, before it finally gave in a spray of fermented ketchup, fruit cocktail, and jelly. Sure Amos was annoyed, but he was also happy to finally have a drink, he still had a good 2/3rds of the bottle still. Using his jumpsuit he wiped up the wine as best as he could, he didn't want the place to reek of wine later.

As Amos was cleaning he noticed something, there was some paper lodged behind the old radiator. The old yellow pages blended right in with the faded white and rusted metal of the radiator. Excited for some guilt free toilet paper Amos pried the pages from behind the old fixture. Somewhat surprised Amos saw that there was a hardback cover with these pages, this was a legitimate book. He examined it closer to the light once he had the tome free and saw that it was a journal handwritten about 100 years ago by a likely long dead ranger. Thinking that this would help pass the drinking time, Amos sat back in his chair and began reading. The wine was good and the tale looked interesting. It harkened back to an older, wilder wasteland, where warlords still had cars and folks thought a reclamation was right around the corner. This journal followed the exploits of Sgt. Macklin, and Amos flipped ahead past the boring stuff to where some action seemed to begin. Near the end of the journal the Sgt. writes about heading to an important meeting with his higher ups. Curious and slightly excited Amos turns the page and fins out what happens next.

(I'm thinking for format, first post to set up your actual character, then POV's from the point forward. So my next post would be from the POV of the Sgt.)