@Acadian,
It's actually odd... For a long time I really disliked Sanctuary, in part because of personal association, but mostly because it was so difficult to build in the place due to the way Bethesda "optimised" the game using previs and precombines. They also made the roofs a wreck, without providing a reasonable way to repair them. Then, a mod series called "Commonwealth Deep Clean and Remodel" came along, and did everything I've always wished for. So now... I genuinely do enjoy Sanctuary, and I love being able to make it live up to its name.

@SubRosa,
*chuckles* You have NO IDEA how tempted I was to actually have Codsworth push Autumn back to Sanctuary in that wheelbarrow.... (and had there been a way to screenshot it, I might have succumbed ) In the end, though, I decided Autumn still has enough dignity that no matter how sore her leg, she'd never consent to it.

@Renee,
FO4's difficulty varies, I find. Sometimes it can actually be quite challenging, but other times, less so. As I said, in this case I think it has something to do with companions scaling to the game's difficulty setting. Plus, given that most characters are pretty low level when they do that fight, the devs probably made it easier than they could have. Also, having Autumn on that balcony definitely helped, and laser muskets, though slow, pack a serious punch. In fact, the laser musket is actually one of my favourite stealth sniper weapons. My characters don't usually die that much (unless via explosives, in the beginning), but I do know the game fairly well by now, which makes a difference.
Glad you like the recollections.

@treydog,
*chuckles* I actually suspect we're of a similar generation, and I definitely remember Ghostbusters making waves when I was in high school. Just, for some reason, I never really checked it out. Now, I'm tempted, though!
Thank you. I do always find it can be challenging to navigate between not enough information and too much, so I'm glad this appears to be working.



On a general note, since you all commented on it, I do intend to further flesh out Autumn's flashback, and the events leading up to it, probably in a couple of installments from now.
Also, fewer screenies in this one, I'm afraid, it was just the nature of the content.



~~~


Entry 9: Small Talk

“Codsworth, mind if I ask you something?”

The robot spun around, shifting his attention from the dinner preparations that were now well underway. “Of course, Miss Autumn, do go ahead.”

“Why did you directly engage the deathclaw like that? I was so worried!”

“Miss Autumn, my first duty since you and the hubby connected my circuits, has always been to protect and serve. Laser muskets are powerful weapons, but they are also slow, and I was very concerned that the creature, enraged as it was, would make its way back to you, before Mr. Garvey had the chance to finish it off. The two of you needed something to distract it while cranking your muskets.”

“But Codsworth!,” Autumn exclaimed, “You could have been badly hurt, or ki… destroyed!”

The robot tutted. “Nonsense, Ma’am. One can’t simply destroy The Pride of General Atomics. Even if that beast had put me out of commission, I dare say Mr. Sturgis would have been able to repair me, good as new!”

“Are you saying it’s possible to easily fix robots, even now?,” Autumn enquired, surprised. Then she added, “And, I still find it odd that Sturgis couldn’t pick that lock, what does that say about his chances of repairing you?”

“Of course it’s possible to repair robots! In fact, the ability to do so is quite common. As to Mr. Sturgis’ trouble with the lock, perhaps he just doesn’t have your particular talent for such things, or perhaps he had other reasons.”

Unsure if she felt apprehensive or foolish, Autumn once more directed her gaze toward the window.

The small group, even Marcy and Jun, were beginning to gather around the fire that had been built by Preston and Sturgis. Numerous buckets and pots were placed beside it; Autumn had seen the two men carrying them to, and from, the river. They’d also managed to find an assortment of sleeping bags and blankets. These had been laid out beneath a makeshift shelter.

The old houses, in their present condition, represented more of a hazard than a safe place to sleep. It was only owing to Codsworth’s continued efforts that her old home did not appear to be in imminent danger of collapse.

A sorrowful whine distracted Autumn from her contemplation. Dogmeat had sidled his way over to Codsworth’s “kitchen.” Large, sad, brown eyes beseechingly stared up at the robot.

“Really Pup, I’ve already given you at least three pieces, and I still want to feed everyone else!,” he grumbled.



Autumn couldn’t help but snicker at the canine’s antics and the response of her fusspot companion. It seemed that even Codsworth, technically a personality driven by programming and circuits, was not immune to Dogmeat’s persuasive charms. For not the first time, she wondered if Codsworth’s AI had somehow evolved on its own over the course of those two hundred years.

Codsworth gave every impression of rolling his eyes. “Miss Autumn, perhaps, if your leg allows, you might deign to assist in carrying dinner over to our new friends.”

Given the many mole rats they’d killed, and the plentiful supply of vegetables that grew wild all over Sanctuary, dinner was an almost festive affair. It had been too long since Preston’s group had eaten anything even remotely decent, and they fell upon the repast with appreciation. Thanks to the mint Autumn had planted in her vegetable garden so long ago, tea rounded out the meal.

Sturgis regarded Codsworth appraisingly. “Well dang, now I want to build my own robot butler, you just cooked the best vittles I’ve ever had.”

Codsworth appeared unsure how to respond. “Why I’m glad you enjoyed your dinner, Mr. Sturgis, though I dare say, it would be difficult to build the Pride of General Atomics.”

Mama Murphy, eyes slightly glazed, emerged from her reverie, and piped up, “One time I killed a Mr. Gutsy all by myself, just a pipe pistol…and one bullet.”

“And just how much jet did you huff first, huh, Mama?,” enquired Marcy, openly sceptical.

“I must say, Mr. Gutsys are not to be trifled with, that would have been most impressive indeed.” Codsworth sounded dubious.

Coughing, Preston turned to Autumn. “So, you know Sanctuary pretty well…”

Autumn sighed, she’d been dreading this question.

“If you’d rather not talk about it…,” began Preston.

“No, it’s going to come out one way or another, so I may as well get this over with now,” responded Autumn.

Staring into the flames, Autumn recounted that horrifying day, how she’d been cryogenically frozen for over 200 years, and, without entering into detail, described Nate’s murder, and Shaun’s kidnapping.

“Wow… So, you’re kind of like one of those pre-war ghouls,” said Preston, his eyes widening in astonishment. Then, remembering the actual context of her story, he stopped himself. His tone soft, he continued, “All of this must be incredibly difficult… I can’t even begin to imagine what you must be going through.”

“I’m managing,” Autumn replied tiredly. “I have no other choice. I need to find out what happened to my son.”

“Your son is out there. I can feel his energy.”

“Mama, I don’t think she needs this right now,” interjected Marcy, her expression unexpectedly sympathetic.

Autumn inclined her head. “It’s OK, Marcy… thanks, though. Mama Murphy knew about the raiders and the deathclaw. I’ve always disbelieved things like fortune-telling, but…I’m not so sure now.”

“What else can you tell me, Mama?,” asked Autumn, trying to keep the sudden hope from her voice.

“I don’t know where he is, Kid, that’s not how this works, but he’s alive, I feel it. I don’t even need The Sight to tell you that you should start in The Great Green Jewel, Diamond City.”

Autumn nodded; if nothing else, Mama Murphy had added to her hunch. Something Preston had mentioned struck her, however. “Preston, you compared me to a pre-war ghoul earlier. What are ghouls, exactly?”

“Ghouls are… irradiated people. Most are just like you and me. They look pretty messed up, and live a long time, but they're still just… people.”

“There are also others,” Preston continued, “They’re different. The radiation's rotted their brains. Made them feral. They'll rip you apart, just as soon as look at you.”

Preston concluded, “There’s nothing left of the people ferals once were; I hear that eventually all ghouls go feral, but I’m not sure if it’s true. Some folks like to use that as an excuse to treat any ghoul badly.”

“Wait… So you’re telling me that at least some people from my time have survived?” Conflicting emotions crossed Autumn’s face as she considered the implications.

Preston confirmed her guesses, and also voiced a concern.

“You know, it’s not my place to say, and I realise you want to head off to Diamond City as soon as possible, but you should consider healing up a bit more first. We could scout the area around here while you regain your strength.”

“Quite right, Mr. Garvey!,” chimed Codsworth, bobbing in agreement. “We can’t hope to rescue Young Shaun without Miss Autumn at her best!”

Much as she would have preferred to begin the trek to Diamond City the following morning, Autumn reflected that Preston and Codsworth had reasonable cause for their worry. In the space of, at most, two days, she had: witnessed her husband’s murder, and the abduction of their son; she had, for the first time ever, taken multiple human lives; she’d narrowly escaped a depraved raider’s intent, and she’d fought a deathclaw alongside Preston and Codsworth. The wound to her leg seemed minor in comparison. Perhaps she did need a little time to process the last 48 hours.

The fire had started to burn low. Sturgis yawned. “Well, it’s been one Helluva day, and I gotta turn in.”

Dogmeat, who had spent most of the evening curled against Jun, yawned as well.

“Yeah,” added Preston, “I think we’re all pretty beat.”

Slowly, everyone began to make their way to sleeping bags, and Codsworth collected plates and utensils.

Autumn, lost in thought, stared into the darkness. She noticed that the night sky, bereft of light pollution, was beautiful.

There is no keeping down the Pride of General Atomics, even 200 years after his warranty expired.

Everything looks nice and cozy back in Sanctuary, with Coddie frying up some vittles, the dog begging for more, and peeps all stretching out in their sleeping blankets.

Looks like Autumn did make some friends, and now she knows a little more about the world she now finds herself within. More importantly, she now has a plan, and a direction. Diamond City.

A lovely interlude that continues to develop Autumn and her traveling companions (two legged, four legged and metal). Under the circumstances, that must have been a wonderful meal.

Mama Murphy gives Autumn a hint of hope for her son - and a direction to look. I'm glad, though, that prudence won the day and she is putting off her next adventure to allow for some more leg healing time.

A much-needed and poignant moment of domesticity, complete with a "hound" who has no concept of "full."

You do a wonderful job of showing the "getting to know these people" part of Autumn's new life. You also provide excellent guidance in the ways in which the "Lone Wanderer" can actually be quite dependent on other survivors/descendants. At some level, everyone is the protagonist of their own story.

Codsworth is again a gem, in a number of ways.

And Shaun is alive... that is a fraught situation, but one Autumn must pursue.

A hat-tip and to dust off an old fan-fiction subforum acronym.... S.G.M.!

@SubRosa,
Heh! In many ways, I think Codsworth is not only irrepressible, but also the glue that both holds Autumn together, and the little ragtag band slowly starting to turn Sanctuary into a home. When I first began writing, I didn't quite expect him to take on such a pronounced role, but I think it suits his character really well.

@Acadian,
Indeed, they all really needed that evening... It's something that I wish was in the vanilla game. Instead, any dialogue like that tends to occur when the player character first encounters Preston and Co. in Concord, which, I feel, isn't great timing...since they have more pressing issues at that point.

@Treydog,
*grins* I enjoyed adding The Hound to that scene; I felt he completed it. As I mentioned to Acadian, I feel the game doesn't do quite enough to establish a sense of community amongst the original Sanctuary inhabitants, and, honestly, they did a real disservice to some of them, so I wanted to start working with that a bit.
As you can tell, I adore Codsworth.
Yeah.... the situation re: Shaun is going to be an interesting write... on numerous levels..

S.G.M ??? I've seen this used in some of the fics I've been reading, but I have yet to figure out the meaning.. so, help?


~~~

Entry 10: Re(con)naissance

Once again, Autumn rose to a clear, pink-hued dawn. Groggily, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and went to sit on the worn stoop outside her home. She was struck by the jarring juxtaposition of the scene... the destroyed houses, rubble… and the wrenching loveliness of the slowly awakening day.

Codsworth had joined her, and, as if reading her thoughts, commented, “Mother Nature never ceases to amaze… Through all the postwar devastation, the sunrise is still quite impressive.”

“That it is,” agreed Autumn.

“How is the old leg doing?,” asked Codsworth, ever solicitous.

Autumn smiled. “It feels good. I should be able to do some scouting with you and Preston.”

Codsworth frowned. “Are you certain, Ma’am? Also, if you are indeed feeling up to snuff, it would be better if the pup and I remained here. Sanctuary has certainly been safe these last 200 years, but still, you never know, and these people will need help, should something go awry.”

As always, Codsworth had a point. Considering their plans for the day, Autumn shifted her focus to the tedious business of bathing. Once she’d hauled sufficient water for boiling, she set it upon the fire. Acutely aware that the scavenged clothing she wore was as filthy as it was blood-soaked, she recalled that the much despised blouse Codsworth had procured the previous day was in surprisingly good shape. She braced herself and headed to the bedroom closet, where she discovered that most of her old clothing was, for the most part, intact.

Happy that she’d be able to peel off the tattered (and overly ripe) bits and pieces she was wearing, Autumn grabbed several favourite items, along with another horrifying floral print number; the latter would serve as an adequate wash cloth. She then returned to the now scalding water.

“You know, Codsworth, we really need to do something about this plumbing situation, if it’s even possible,” she commented.

The robot chuckled. “Perhaps we could just remake you as a robot. You’d do General Atomics proud, I’m quite certain!”

She decided it would be better to accept this as a compliment.

“More seriously, Miss Autumn, I have no idea if we could do such a thing, but, once we’ve sorted out the basics, perhaps Mr. Sturgis will have some ideas.”

“Maybe I’ll try my hand at making soap again too,” she mused. Somehow, the thought of attempting to wash off the grime with Abraxo, the still ubiquitous, highly abrasive, household cleaner was unappealing.

Bathed, fed and dressed in clean(er) clothing, Autumn went to find Preston. It was easy to spot the man in his distinctive colonial-style duster and strikingly unique hat; he stood near the scattered detritus of what had once been a home. Hearing Autumn’s approach, he turned to face her, sighing as he gestured across the rubble.



“We certainly have our work cut out for us, don’t we?,” he remarked.

“Yeah,” replied Autumn… “it’s going to be difficult enough to make the houses that are still standing habitable, I have no idea how we’re going to clear all of this mess. We’d need an army.”

“Mmhmm, maybe….” Preston’s vaguely enigmatic response made her curious, and she raised an eye. The Minuteman only smiled, and asked if she was ready to reconnoitre the area. Autumn nodded, and the two set off. When they reached the rickety wooden bridge, Autumn stopped.

“I remember, yesterday, when Codsworth and I were near the Red Rocket, there was some kind of tower past the trees,” recalled Autumn. “I’ve no idea what it is, but it could be a good place to start. If nothing else, it’s a landmark.”



“Should we check out the Red Rocket, while we’re there, do you think?,” asked Preston.

“Nah, let's leave it for Sturgis. He looked like a little boy going past a candy store yesterday,” she grinned.

Preston let out an amused laugh, and the pair headed toward the tower. As they drew closer, it became apparent that said tower had once been an electrical pylon. It occurred to Autumn that it had probably been responsible for supplying power to Sanctuary, and she found it ironic that she’d never really been aware of it until now. More curious, however, was the structure that had been built up around its base. For all intents and purposes, it resembled a large shack that had aspirations of one day becoming a farmhouse.

Cautiously, they approached. Autumn, somewhat to her surprise, saw that lush, well-tilled fields surrounded the dwelling. Vegetables grew in abundance, and a two-headed bovine of some kind (two-headed?!?) was pastured close by.



“Wow,” said Preston, clearly impressed.

Before Autumn could respond, a man, steel-eyed, with his rifle raised, advanced toward them, she spoke up quickly, “It’s OK, we’re friendly, we don’t mean to cause any trouble. We’ve come from Sanctuary, nearby, and we’re just getting our bearings.”

The man adopted a slightly less threatening stance. “If you say so. But be warned, we’re armed here. So don’t try anything.”

Preston spoke up and held out his hand, “Preston Garvey of the Commonwealth Minutemen, and this is my friend, Autumn.”

Appearing mildly confused, the man returned the gesture. “Blake Abernathy. Seeing you here is good news; I thought that after Quincy, you guys were gone for good. Things have been worse since the Minutemen disappeared.”

Expression haunted, Preston replied. “I’m one of the last Minutemen, maybe the last, but… I don’t know, I guess I’m hoping maybe we can rebuild.”

“Well, that’s an idea I can get behind,” commented Blake. He gestured toward the farmstead’s rear. “Last time raiders hit us, my daughter, Mary, tried to stand up to them. If you’d been here then, Mary might still be alive… Now, she’s buried out back.”



“I’m so very sorry about your daughter, Mr. Abernathy,” said Preston.

“Blake. Please call me Blake.”

Autumn, swallowing her own emotion, replied softly, “There’s nothing worse than losing a child. Believe me, I know.”



Blake studied her, curious, and then, hesitating, spoke. “If you’ve a mind… those raiders took the only thing we had to remind us of Mary. It was a silver locket…. I know where they’re based…. It’s at that old USAF station, Satellite Olivia.” The plea in his eyes mirrored Autumn’s own anguish.

“Of course,” she murmured. “We’ll do everything we can, that I promise.”

SGM is a compliment meaning ‘So good – more!’

*

So much we take for granted. Under Autumn’s present conditions, getting cleaned up is a major production. Yes, some robot inspired creative plumbing magic would be lovely.

A thriving farm of fresh veggies! And another survivor. A poignant reminder of Autumn's own missing son. Uh oh, Autumn obligates for a quest to recover Mary’s locket.

So back in the "old days" when we had a fair number of "Scandinavian" forumites, certain low-minded individuals (cough *treydog* cough) had a tendency to compare them to Elder Scrolls Nords. To wit, only moderately verbal, and more inclined to fighting and drinking (somewhat like oversize Nac Mac Feegle). That characterization gave rise to the phrase (in "Nord-speak")- "Story. Good. More!" with the resulting abbreviation.

Enough ancient history (from an increasingly ancient doggie).

The musing on how the natural world manages to not only keep going, but to keep being lovely, regardless of what people do to it and to each other... simply wonderful.

And as someone who HAS been "washed" with kitchen cleanser (long story- varnish mistaken for blue paint was involved)- I can identify with Autumn's distaste for using Abraxo to bathe.

Codsworth's personality again shines through, as he takes responsibility for the "refugees." And the same with Autumn, as she begins to plan for a future- not just for herself- but for the others.

Autumn is growing accustomed to the new world she finds herself within. Thankfully for her, she can see the beauty amidst the destruction.

Autumn-bot would be interesting, and possible, given how central Synths are to Fallout 4s main quest.

Going to leave the Rocket and its mole rats to Sturgis. So I guess that means heading south to the Abernathy's.

This is a nice interaction to have with Preston - the Minuteman - actually present. It really changes the flow of things. Now it's time to get Minuting. Hmm, that needs some work...