Yang Xiao Long
Sunny Little Dragon
The Blight [A Soldier of the Wasteland]
Welcome to The Blight [A Soldier of the Wasteland]! This quest will follow a serviceman of the US Military in the aftermath of a catastrophic virus that managed to wiped out 90% of the world’s population. I decided to run this quest not to just expand my writing skills, but to flesh out the world of an RP I am running in the futuristic section of the site! This quest will be on going and possibly will have an effect on the happenings of the main roleplay.
The main character of this roleplay will be Corporal Rauss Kaufman, an engineer in the National Security Force (NSF). An organization created by the remnants of the US Government in order to reunify and protect what was left of the United States in the aftermath of a worldwide disaster. Cpl. Kaufman currently leads Fire Team Charlie in an unnamed platoon within the NSF, and what happens to him is in your hands, the reader!
Information on the Setting
The Blight [Information]
Interest Check for the main RP
The Blight [Interest Check]
The truck vibrated and rocked as it made its way down the rough bumpy road. You could feel it in your bones, every crack, every pothole, every result of the decades of disrepair brought on by that terrible disease the one that brought the fall of civilization. Or at least perhaps, most civilization… It might be a bit different but you still proudly call yourself a serviceman of the good ol’ U.S of A. A member of the national security force you bravely helped defend the country against the mutants and bandits that now plagued it. Though of course you often find yourself taking opportune moments such as these to get some tactical shuteye. It wasn’t comfortable, but three years in the security force taught you how to get some sleep anywhere even if it was in the back of a covered truck on a bumpy road headed to god knows where, which would probably be infested with Reavers when you got there, which it would inevitably fall to your platoon and your sorry ass in particular to exterminate; oh joy. There were days you wished you never enlisted, stayed back in the settlement and went to work in the factories. After all that was just as important to the effort of retaking what was left of the united states, even if it was boring. But no that wasn’t for you, you wanted to get out and see the world, be part of the force, the bearer of the torch of civilization… What a load of crap. If you knew just how much the recruitment officer had been lying to your face you would of gone to work in the factories. You had lost quite a good few friends to the Force and you were bound to lose more, possibly before the day was out. Someone jabbed you in the side with what felt like the buttstock of a rifle.
“Kaufman! Wake up, we’re getting close!”
“I’m up, I’m up!” You would utter shifting yourself upright in the back of the truck. Just happens that your luck would be to pile in beside the platoon sergeant. Though it really wasn’t surprising, after all being a corporal had all the wonderful benefits of being a sergeant and a private at the same time. Responsible for a fireteam, while at the same time being the sergeant’s personal whipping post.
“Bravo get your asses up!” You were the first one to shout at your team to get awake. Hopefully that would curry some favor with the sergeant. You heard your fellow corporals shouting at their own teams. Within about a minute every man who was slumbering in the back of the truck was checking their gear, making sure magazines were where they left them, strapping on helmets, tightening tactical gear, ensuring they had everything they needed from their packs shifted to their gear. Your muscles were aching from the hours on the road, if only your mission had been given priority for a war bird. But why would a simple scouting mission call for such an expensive use of government resources?
“Alright listen up, boys! The brass has asked us kindly to conduct initial scouting of a facility on the edge of Federally controlled territory! Before the blight this facility was a weapons manufacturing plant, command hopes that we’ll be able to reclaim the plant and return it to working order! Our task is to enter the facility, clear it of any threats, and evaluate the state of the machinery!”
As the sergeant briefed the platoon you went over your own gear. First things first was shifting the weight of your vest around to make sure it was tight and wouldn't move around in combat, next was the configuration of the vest it’s self, making sure the spare batteries for your primary weapon were exactly where you left them; those batteries were still weird to you a student of the old school who grew up shooting your old man’s rifle. They were similar yet different to a magazine those batteries that your pulse rifle used, heavier and solid yet smoother, circuit connectors where the top rund should of been. Next was your knife; you quickly drew it from the sheath near your shoulder and ran it along the bracer on your left arm, testing it’s sharpness. Those were ‘gifts’ from your CQC instructor, you were one of the few men in the platoon rated for close combat. Most of your brothers in arms had a simple bayonet, but your certification entitled you to a steel bracer and a kukri knife. These had come in surprisingly handy on more than one occasion. Following your knife on the list of things to check was your helmet and it’s inbuilt heads up display. It fitted tight, but not so much so as to squeeze your head, pressing a button on the side of it the visor lit up with various information primarily radio channels, weapon charge, and IFF markers, as well as a real time gps map. Next you pulled your side arm from your holster, a MP23 Machine pistol. Detecting that it was now in your hand the HUD of your helmet switched the battery bar displaying the charge of your rifle to a magazine icon showing that the automatic pistol was empty. You made sure the crosshair indicator in your helmet was tracking with your pistol and then loaded a magazine. Finally you made your way to checking your primary weapon the EM-56 Pulse ‘Rifle’, you still weren’t sure how you felt about it, it was notorious for being a finicky piece and you had put in enough time maintaining it to justify its reputation. You slid in a battery and watched as it came to life, the battery indicator in your helmet switching from a batter with a red cross to a fully charged green indicator. The fact that you had to insert a battery to check if the targeting indicator was tracking was something that made you slightly uncomfortable, there had been enough accidents in basic training to justify that concern.
“When we get to the facility each fireteam will fulfill their objectives. Kaufman, Ramirez, Jackson, Ford! You do remember your fireteams’ tasking right?”
[1]”Charlie will assist Delta in securing the perimeter of the facility, meanwhile Alpha and Bravo will enter the facility!”
[2]”Fire Team Charlie and Delta will enter the facility while Alpha and Bravo secure the perimeter!”