OK...*deep breath* here goes.
I've thought about actually writing down this story for several years, but, for one reason, or another, I've never quite managed beyond a sentence or two. Right now, my life is topsy turvy, but, ironically enough, it's also a good time to begin. Both encouraged by, and inspired by, Renee and Treydog, I've mustered the courage to finally post. Some notes first, though:

* Anyone familiar with the game will observe I'm using mods. I don't go overboard, or anything, but there are changes.
* This fiction is based on the main events of the game, but, sometimes, there will be differences in the details.
* I have tried to strike a balance between enough exposition so that anyone who doesn't know the game won't feel lost, while those that do won't be overly bored. I'm not sure how well I'm succeeding, but it's something that will evolve as it progresses.
* I'm hoping to post an installment once per week, each entry consisting of somewhere between 600 and 900 words. So... not huge chapters, but they're manageable. Right now, I'm not having any trouble getting out the words, so perhaps I'll eventually increase the schedule. As I wrote though, I'm also distracted by RL, so I'll see how it goes.

~ ~ ~

Entry 1: Awoken



Her first sensation was one of light. Searing and brilliant, it was nearly an assault after her struggle through Vault 111’s dimly lit passageways. Long moments passed, and then, perhaps jolted by realisation, as well as the view before her, Autumn gasped, reeling.

The Vault had been constructed on a small hill, and from her relative vantage point, she took in the wreckage of her home, and the small suburban neighbourhood in which she….no… they… had lived. The urge to scream and flail wildly almost overwhelmed her; somehow, maybe it was instinct, she repressed it.

Trying to steady her breathing, Autumn attempted some level of coherent thought. Time blurred, only the sun’s high position in that blazing, cerulean sky told her that no more than a few minutes had elapsed. Grappling with the stark certainty of her circumstances, and for want of a more obvious plan, Autumn slowly began to make her way down the hill, noting, despite herself, the dappled display of sunlight that glittered through the verdant canopy overhead. This, though, made her pause. The trees surrounding her towered high, their trunks gnarled and witness to countless seasons. Although she remained on the edge of hysterical panic, walking had calmed her somewhat, and it was impossible to ignore the onslaught of her thoughts.

“Those trees were hardly more than saplings..... how much time has passed?” she muttered. Her only answer was a strident caw somewhere deep within the leafy branches. “A crow?” she queried. Autumn shook her head, recalling the giant cockroaches that had impeded her progress through the vault. She, no doubt, needed to worry about whatever wildlife existed in this surreal new reality, but crows represented the least of her concerns. Another thing of note was that the path she followed, familiar, yet not, appeared oddly clear of debris, and an obvious attempt had been made to prune the bushes that sprawled alongside it. Autumn found herself unsure whether these observations provided comfort or unease.

A few steps further brought her to a small wooden bridge that traversed a glittering stream.
Miraculously, both were much as she remembered. Memories…. Autumn closed her eyes, flicking them open again as a surge of nausea threatened. Shaking, she lowered herself to the bridge, sitting down, her legs dangling just above the burbling water. Had she not seen her husband shot at point-blank range as he attempted to protect Shaun, their infant son, from kidnappers, mere hours before, and were it not for the grimy pastel-coloured rubble she could glimpse through the trees, it would have been almost idyllic.



Aware that she could not rest for long, Autumn attempted to stand. She swayed, light-headed; a sudden growling made her tense, but at a second wave of nausea she realised that it was her stomach, and she remembered her last meal, a bowl of Sugar Bombs and the coffee that had been prepared by Codsworth, their ever buoyant Mr. Handy Robot. The day had seemed normal, even finally opening the door to that persistent Vault-Tec salesman and securing their spots in the nearby underground facility, did little to indicate the turn their lives were about to take. After that, her recollections became a tumble… cuddling Shaun, discussing their plans for the day, then, Codsworth urgently calling them to the TV. They arrived in time to hear the anchorman announcing that bombs, nuclear bombs, had dropped. Panic. Horror. Disbelief. Their rush to the vault. Fragmented images flashed through her head. Autumn lurched, and vomited the contents of her stomach. Sugar Bombs did not taste sweet the second time around.

All too mindful, after voiding her stomach, that her body was now bereft of anything that might be considered food, Autumn willed herself to push forward. Up close, the jumbled, torn rubble, the homes her neighbours had lived in, and strewn human skeletons told the harrowing story of those who had not been on Vault-Tec’s list.

For possibly the first time, Autumn’s sentiments towards Sanctuary, the suburban community in which they’d lived, were without conflict, though she did reflect that its developers had likely never intended for the name to be ironic.

Walking up the gently winding road toward her old home felt strange; Autumn remembered all those times she’d ardently wished the place could be transformed into something different; she also remembered the never-ending fights with Nate as she argued that her apartment in Cambridge was a preferable location. Now, stumbling over rubble, fallen trees and the bones of her neighbours, she experienced a bleak, deep stab of remorse. A wave of memory engulfed her, and the impossible brightness of the day faded into black as Autumn teetered to the broken ground.

Yes, I can imagine how confusing that must be, as Autumn finds herself in this strange new world. I haven't played FO4 yet, but I'm imagining it's similar to Fallout 3, except it sounds as though 111 is devoid of all life (except giant roaches, yicch).

Poor gal. I wonder if Nate also survived.

Hey, welcome to the Fiction forum.

Welcome to the Fiction Forum! This is a promising (and heart-wrenching) start- with lyrical, relatable descriptions. You depict not only the environment, with its changes, but also the inner turmoil Autumn is experiencing.

Some good moments of "Show- don't tell"- e.g., the seeming "minor" pre-Vault conflicts with neighbors. And also, some foreshadowing... an attempted kidnapping? Hmmm.

Looking forward to more.

Let me add my welcome to the fan fiction forum!

I’ve not played any of the Fallout games but an interesting tale with a relatable protagonist is always enjoyable, regardless of the venue. You set the scene here nicely, giving us a good feel for the environment and the inner turmoil (emotional and physical) that Autumn is experiencing. You also unobtrusively weave in plenty enough background information to orient us to the story.

Congrats on starting the fic tale! Keep it coming.

I imagine Sugar Bombs taste worse when they come in a double-tap. So far this is a nice - as in very personal and emotional - telling of the Lone Survivor's story. We are getting little bits and pieces of what has happened, even as she grapples with those happenings. It works really well, reminding us who have played the game (me!) that it really was just a few hours ago that the protagonist's entire world fell apart.

Renee: Nate is the protagonist's husband (if you play a woman). He's the husband Autumn remembered seeing shot dead just a few hours before while holding their infant son Shawn.

Thank you everyone, for the welcome and lovely words.
I'm glad that there's enough information for those who haven't played the game. Truthfully, I find it kind of fun that several of you are in that camp; it's somewhat like watching a blind Lets Play in reverse! Equally, it's fun to know at least one person is aware of where things might be going....

I do have a question, though. As I mentioned in my preamble, while Autumn's Tale will follow the game's main events (for the most part), I do use mods, and I have taken my own creative liberties here and there. Currently, I suspect there's only one mod that may figure significantly, but the differing details that are mine will occur on occasion. In general, these will just be moments that the luxury of writing (as opposed to gameplay) provides, and they act to flesh things out a bit better. Would you like me to note when something is not vanilla content? Considering I try to use mods that (at least by my personal definition) feel as though they could be part of the original game, that would be slightly ironic, and I feel things would flow better for readers if I didn't point such things out. However, I fully understand if people prefer I flag anything like that, and I'd be happy to do so if requested, so please let me know.

I think you don't need to worry when something in your story is not vanilla content. That's the "Fiction" part of "Fan Fiction". Personally, I sometimes highlight or explain such things in a footnote at the end of an episode if I want to draw attention to something in particular, but I don't do it as a rule.

Seconded. One of the great things about fiction (or fan fiction) is that you get to make the story your own. If you want to credit the mods you are using, the end (or start) of a chapter in which they figure won't break the immersion. As to places where you "deviate" from the main line- everyone experiences the world differently, and your narrative reflects that. Looking forward to more.

As the others have said, sometimes, some writers will point things out after the story is done, an example from my own stories is sometimes I'll type a few notes underneath the story's text, in an area separated by dashes -------------- like that. Or while responding to comments sometimes I'll say "I added a couple NPCs into the G.E.C.K. to flesh this bar scene out, because normally we all know how empty Casey's Tavern is."

One thing I wouldn't do is directly add comments into the story itself. An example: "Tolssdir and I had a delightful breakfast! We then walked into the Goddess Store (added by Emma's Goddess Store) and then traipsed our way across the bridge, and into the tunnel (Bananasplit's Better Cities)."

But like we're saying, sometimes it does help to point things out. To those of us who have done Oblivion's Main Quest and know the plot well, and are expecting to read about Martin carrying the burden of defeating Mehrunes Dagon in the Temple District mostly by himself, some readers might want to know who "Zarlofft the Magnificent", the guy who's aiding Martin as a giant avatar, is.

Anyways, looking forward to more. Oh, and have some cake.

An emotional feeling to a good start.

When it comes to the use of mods in FO4 I will not know the difference. I only once played maybe half way through the game. You can identify them if you want or not, it is up to you. For myself in my Oblivion adventure, I do identify some mods because years from now when I reread the story I may like to know why things are the way they are.

Mods in my story can be identified either by adding the name in parentheses (do I do this too often?) or by working the mod into the story. For example Snus Dungeons: Entering Amelion Tomb we found the place so overgrown with snus infected moss and vine that finding the artifacts was extremely difficult.

Or sometimes when resorting to using the console cheats I’ll identify the action as remembering and old spell from past games e.g. Arena’s Passwall spell, “casting passwall I stepped through the wall and there hidden in the wall I found the…”

I like the second method better. Both methods work for me but neither are necessary. If someone should ask, where did you get that, I can always answer and explain.

Oh, one other thing. If it is a quest mod often the mod is identified in the title line e.g. 20180415 AED Adense Epic Dungeon

Awesome, I was hoping that would be the response. My plan is to weave extra content naturally into the story, and make a small note at the chapter's end if I think it seems merited.

Oh, also, right now my plan is to post the next entry this upcoming Saturday, sticking to my weekly schedule. It is already written, and things seem to be going well, but I want to have completed more additions in advance before thinking about more frequent updates.

When I sat down to write last night, I had one of those serendipitous experiences I'm sure everyone here is familiar with, where an entire “chapter” practically composed itself within about an hour. You know...that feeling where it's as though your hands are simply the channel for some other force that has taken hold. I love moments like that, and I REALLY wish they happened more often. Of course, perhaps related, Autumn has taken control, both in-game (I started a new profile just for this fic) and in the writing... I'm still trying to work out if that is a good, or a bad, thing. Probably the former, but it did require me to adjust my future plans slightly.

Anyway, the upshot is that I feel relatively confident that I have enough material currently to post this next entry earlier than I'd expected.

~~~

Entry 2: Family Matters

Something sharp, yet cushioned, prodded into her spine, and the scent of roasting meat drifted towards her. As she returned to full consciousness, Autumn tentatively stretched, and her eyes fluttered open.

It was dark; she was laid upon a mouldering, dilapidated couch and covered by a threadbare blanket. Upon a nearby table, a single oil lamp cast its glow, making the ruined room appear almost cosy. Amidst the dim shadows, Autumn was able to discern hulking pieces of destroyed furniture, and..... gently hovering…. flames? Training her adjusting vision to their spirited flicker, she realised those same flames were responsible for the increasingly appetizing smell that wafted across the room.

“Miss Autumn! You’re awake!” The jaunty, though clearly concerned, voice was familiar, a good thing, considering it knew her name.

In a sudden flash, hit her. “Codsworth, you’re still here,” she croaked weakly.

The robot bobbed and floated to where she lay; his great relief at seeing her conscious beyond apparent. “Oh my, I’m sorry, you sound as though you’re completely parched! Here, I have just the ticket!” With a gallant flourish, Codsworth thrust a canister of purified water into her hands. “Drink that down, and I’ll finish cooking your dinner,” he chattered cheerily, returning to what seemed to be a makeshift grill.

Recalling her loss of consciousness, Autumn reasoned that Codsworth had likely found her on the road, and somehow transported her to the devastation of her former home. With gratitude, she peeled back the foil cap of the water, and resisted the impulse to down its contents in a few desperate gulps.

As she drank, Autumn also wondered how safe the water was, not to mention the meat, whatever it might be, that was sizzling away under Codsworth’s enthusiastic ministrations. However, she knew she had little choice; the alternative would be death by dehydration and starvation combined.

Although Autumn was unsure how determined she was to survive in this new world, and she had, in fact, considered using the 10 mm pistol she’d found to permanently escape into oblivion, neither dehydration nor slow starvation appealed as a means of exit. Further to that, she had to find her son.

Shaun had not been planned, and she’d never envisioned herself as a mother; upon discovering her pregnancy, Autumn’s feelings had vacillated between terror, ambivalence, and resentment. However, when he was born, something changed. Autumn knew, in that moment, that she’d always, unreservedly, protect him with every fibre of her being, no matter the route required.

Perhaps it was owing to extreme hunger and accumulated exhaustion, but the meal Codsworth had prepared was, in fact, very good. Autumn felt it better to refrain from inquiring about the meat’s origin, tasty though it was, but, to her surprise, it was accompanied by cobs of corn, vegetables that vaguely resembled roasted potatoes and some variety of sticky, purple fruit. Thankfully, Codsworth let her eat, before launching into the questions he so burned to ask.

With a sigh of gratitude, Autumn moved aside her plate and turned to the robot, whose anxiety was palpable.

“Miss Autumn,” he began, hesitating, “I am so glad you have made it out of there….alive…. but what of Sir and Young Shaun?” Her stomach churned, she had barely absorbed the reality herself, and felt unprepared to discuss it, but also she felt indebted to the solicitous robot. Perhaps he was just an AI in a floating steel shell (though startlingly human, nonetheless), but she was grateful for both his company and care. Maybe it was simply a part of his programming, but he’d always doted on Shaun, and he’d treated Nate with as much admiration and respect as he did her.

Slowly she began to speak. “Nate… he was shot… he died trying to protect Shaun from kidnappers.” Codsworth almost froze, shock, concern, and grief etched across his metallic features. Haltingly, Autumn described waking from her gelid condition to see Nate struggling with the scarred attacker; in her head, hearing, once again, Shaun’s wails as he was taken away.

It was evident the robot was struggling to compose himself; he had also remembered something. Sliding open a hidden compartment on his front, he reached in and extracted a holotape, “This is for you, Ma’am, I think Sir intended it as a surprise.”

Autumn stared mutely at the proffered tape, and swallowed. “Thank you, Codsworth,” she answered, her voice quiet, as she took the small, square object, shifting it from hand to hand. “I…. I can’t listen to this now,” she almost whispered, “Could you please hang onto it for me?”

At first, the robot appeared nonplussed, but then he bobbed as understanding surfaced. “Of course, Miss Autumn, just say the word when you’re ready.” Awkward silence descended. No doubt Codsworth remembered those final months just as well as she did.

Oh no, you don't want to turn that piece on yourself, Autumn. Hang in there. I'm curious about what happened to Shawn, though. Doesn't sound good. Are you playing this game blind, Artemis? In other words is this your first time going through (what I assume is) FO4's main quest?

I know what you mean about writing too, sometimes those words jsut flow. It's rare I suffer from writer's block.

I've actually played through the game several times, but I'm trying hard to describe scenes and events strictly from Autumn's POV. And yep, the events described so far are essentially those of the main quest. I will, at various points, be writing about some of the side content. However, at the beginning, the game kind of pushes you to at least start with the main story. This also makes narrative sense for Autumn's story.

What a fine job bringing Autums's rescuer and dinner-maker to life! This Codsworth robot is quite a likeable fellow - and very resourceful it seems. I've no doubt his company is quite welcome as a familiar piece of her past.

Been a while since I played FO4, nice to see the opening brought to life so vividly

Good job mingling Codsworth's in-game dialogue with your own by the way, very smoothly brought to life, and added a little depth. Looking forwards to reading more!

What a joy it is when you are "in the flow" (as my wife the painter calls it). And good on you for taking hold of that with both hands and writing.

I love you way you evoke Autumn's emotions through the companionship and care-taking offered by Codsworth. The depth of her feeling and her doubts are most wonderfully drawn. Simply grand.

I always wondered why the Mr. Handys did not set every house on fire with those hover jets of theirs? Maybe everything is made of asbestos? (That would not surprise me, given the Fallout universe)

Codsworth really does shine in this episode. While Autumn is coming to grips with her new reality, he keeps calm and carries on with the necessities of life. Of all the companions in FO4, I think he is my favorite. He's just a nice guy to have around.

@Acadian,
Thanks! Codsworth is indeed a wonderful little chap, and Autumn would be very lost without him.

@Burnt Sienna,
You are kind, cheers! Although the dialogue-writing is going much more smoothly than I expected, I appreciate that, because I've found it challenging in the past.

@Treydog,
I love your wife's description of that state! It so absolutely feels like like being part of a flow, or that the flow is moving through you, carrying what you want to express, and delivering it to whatever medium you're working with.
Thanks so much!

@SubRosa,
Absolutely, just like all the candles and oil lanterns placed on wooden furniture. I've often ended up RPing that the nuclear fallout, ironically enough, had a fire retardant effect. It's a ridiculous idea, but in my head, I needed something that would make logical sense... Kind of like being able to explain away such things with magic in fantasy.
Yep, Codsworth is definitely one of my favourites as well. I did not realise when I began writing that he'd take on such a prominent role, and I'm glad he did.


~~~


Entry 3: Best Laid Plans

Autumn, observing Codsworth’s agitation, realised he had further questions; she raised an eye in response, and hoped that he’d steer their conversation to less wrenching topics.

“Ma’am, you were frozen?” She nodded. “That would explain it, then, I suppose.”

Now, Autumn found herself curious, “Explain what, Codsworth?”

The robot dipped and swivelled, as if buying a few moments, before continuing. “Well, that you’re in such extraordinary repair, of course! It’s been 200 years, well closer to 210, actually, taking into account a few dings to the old chronometer.”

Autumn jolted, but, recalling the trees from earlier, she was, in fact, unsurprised. The confirmation, however, raised troubling uncertainties. Were her most recent memories part of a continuous thread, or were they disjointed fragments? Was Shaun even alive? Doubting that she’d find answers amongst Sanctuary’s ruins, the enormity of what lay ahead came crashing down.

As if reading her thoughts, Codsworth turned to her. “Miss Autumn, perhaps we should go to Concord, somebody there might be able to help us find Young Shaun.”

She had surprisingly fond memories of Concord. The small, nearby city, a popular tourist destination, had made her previous life somewhat tolerable. Instead of pastel, plastic, and aluminium many of its colonial era buildings had been constructed from brick and wood; nestled amongst those businesses that provided the standard amenities there had been booksellers, several coffee shops, and even a deliberately offbeat, incense-drenched little spot that sold vintage clothing and assorted esoterica.

The bookshops had been her favourite refuge, and the musty scent of aged paper, faint spice, and leather returned in a sudden rush. They had offered escape, both literal and metaphorical. Curling into a comfortable armchair, provided for the purpose, it was easy to lose herself in a much-loved volume, and there was little likelihood she might encounter any of her neighbours.

Concord’s cornerstone had been The Museum of Freedom, which celebrated the American Revolution and various subsequent military victories. She’d always found the displays interesting, and well put together, but it had not been one of her more frequent haunts. Even Nate, especially following his deployment to Anchorage, and eventual honourable discharge, was ill at ease there. The hollows beneath his eyes would become even darker, and his gaze, speaking volumes, would turn inward, reliving horrors he refused to recount. The harrowed screams of Nate’s nightmares, though, often betrayed him. It had been this, in the end, that drove Autumn to believe in the “healing power of parenthood.”

Attempting to halt her current train of thought, she shuddered at the naïveté that had, all too frequently, misguided her. The shadows in the room had further deepened, and although Autumn had just slept through much of the day, its events, and the conversation with Codsworth had exacted their toll. Concurring that an exploration of Concord was a good plan, she rolled onto her side and, after a time, sank into mercifully dreamless sleep.

Dawn promised a day just as clear as the previous, and setting off, rested, fed, and even cleansed, with Codsworth at her side Autumn felt, if not necessarily hopeful, at least somewhat prepared to confront whatever adversity Concord might hold. Codsworth had explained that the small city’s present inhabitants seemed to be of the rougher variety, which caused her apprehension, but, just as had been the case with every “decision” she’d made since stepping out of that vault, her options were limited. Nonetheless, she’d discovered that her new world actually had at least one working radio station, and that it was based in a place named “Diamond City.” Presumably, if their efforts in Concord ended up fruitless, trekking to this Diamond City would be a logical next step. Codsworth knew little of the city, but he was able to inform her that it was the largest settlement in “The Commonwealth.”

They could have just avoided Concord, she supposed, but it was nearby and on the way; further, Autumn’s experience as a lawyer had been that it was almost always worthwhile to investigate any potential lead, no matter how seemingly mundane. Beginning in Concord also made strategic sense. From what she’d gleaned listening to the awkward DJ who hosted Diamond City Radio, it was a dangerous world, which meant that combat was inevitable; Codsworth had also confirmed this to be the case.

Autumn knew how to handle an assortment of weaponry; she also knew how to dodge bullets and how to take down an enemy unawares. However, due to her pregnancy and various other circumstances, it had been some time since she’d engaged with such pursuits. This, combined with the effects of having been cryogenically frozen for over two hundred years, ensured that she was not in any shape to take on challenges in untravelled areas far from her only known “safe” location. Autumn concluded that Concord might provide both much needed reconnaissance and the opportunity to refresh her skills; moreover, if she was injured, at least Sanctuary would be nearby.

Soon after they’d crossed the rickety wooden bridge that essentially served as Sanctuary’s gateway, a familiar red sign took her by surprise. “Oh yes,” confirmed Codsworth, a gleam in his eye, “The Red Rocket is still standing, and even quite intact.” Autumn couldn’t help but feel intrigued, the old gas station might just be worth some exploration.

So Autumn is catching up on the time that she spent as a Sole Survivorsicle. I love how Codsworth describes her as being in such extraordinary repair, given the two centuries she was frozen.

It also brings up one of the things I instantly thought my first time playing this game. Given the time span involved, there is a very good chance that baby Shaun has grown up and died of old age by now. It is also why I was not surprised by one of the game's later "shocking" reveals concerning him.

So off to Concord it is is. But with a minor pause at Red Rocket. I imagine the gas station will provide some interesting developments.

I'm quite enjoying seeing this post apocalyptic world through Autumn's eyes as Codsworth confirms she's been out of it for +200 years. She has a companion and she has a plan. You also smoothly weave in a few more tidbits on Autumn's past like being a lawyer and having some martial training. I look forward to seeing what she learns at this Red Rocket gas station. And then possibly on to Concord and Diamond City.

You show quite well the psychic disconnect Autumn feels between what seems to her to be the "recent" past, versus the actual passage of over 200 years. Her poignant memories of events that are gone forever are wonderfully evocative. So now- out into the wider world... Thank goodness for a helpful companion.

Thank you all, for reading.
Things are about to pick up a bit!


Entry 4: Needs Must



Uncertain of what might be inhabiting the Red Rocket, Autumn making sure that her pistol was loaded, crouched down and crept carefully through the shrubbery, cautioning Codsworth to remain out of sight unless his flamers and circular saw became necessary.

Autumn had expected to find some new monstrosity, either of the two-legged, or four-legged, variety. What she had not anticipated was the exuberant German Shepherd that now gambolled elatedly about her legs. Codsworth floated from the bushes where he’d been hiding.

“I say, what an impressive pup, and he’s friendly as well! That is rather unusual!” The dog barked, excited at the favourable acknowledgement.

“I take it dogs these days aren’t friendly?” questioned Autumn. “Indeed not Ma’am, usually they’re dangerous, feral beasts and there’s no recourse but to kill them.” The shepherd’s ears and tale drooped, and he let out a mournful whine. Sharing his sentiments, Autumn knelt down to reassure the dog, tentatively offering her hand for him to sniff; in exchange, she received an affectionate lick.

Just as she started to rub the animal’s velvety ears, the nearby ground began to bubble, and a series of discordant grunts and squeaks filled the air. “What the…,” Autumn exclaimed, reaching for her weapon. A few minutes later, multiple hairless, pinkish bodies littered the area; Codsworth, with surprising finesse, was enthusiastically using his saw to skin and gut them, and, much to the dog’s evident glee, splattering copious gore in the process.

Autumn felt her stomach heave, and tried to look away, “Um, Codsworth, what WERE those things, and WHAT are you doing?”

The robot turned from his grisly task, “Mole-rats, Ma’am, a little larger than you might remember, and they make for a fine dinner. At least, you appeared to enjoy them last night.”

For a moment, she fought the urge to gag. Reality, however, soon asserted itself. As Codsworth had noted, she had enjoyed the meal, and she reminded herself that even if Super Duper Marts still existed, they were unlikely to be in plentiful supply. Autumn also had the distinct impression that Codsworth was delighting in the moment. Could a robot enjoy a jest at the expense of a companion? She recalled Codsworth’s sometimes painfully terrible, yet endearing, jokes and puns from before, but she’d always assumed those to be part of his programming. This, however, seemed very far beyond AI, sophisticated though that AI might be.


Mole-rats sufficiently butchered, they started toward the Red Rocket’s beckoning interior. Intriguing as the gas station was, however, they were deterred from more extensive exploration by the shepherd’s insistent barks further ahead. It was clear that the animal wanted them to follow.



As the weathered, wood and brick structures came into view, Autumn felt a sharp pang of nostalgia. It was perhaps fortunate, however, that she had little time to dwell on the feelings that had started to surface.

Gunshots could be heard coming from multiple directions, and they saw several scruffy, leather-clad figures darting about the road and milling in front of The Museum of Freedom. “Raiders,” spat Codsworth, with obvious loathing.

Preferring to remain unseen for as long as possible, Autumn directed her companions to follow as she slipped into familiar alleyways. Once they began to approach the area in front of the museum, where most of the raiders were now clustered, she silently removed the pin from one of the grenades she’d found in Sanctuary. Autumn’s aim, to her considerable surprise, proved accurate… Seconds later, the air became permeated with the unmistakable odour of burning human flesh.

Cries of bewilderment mingled with horror; amidst the chaos, one raider, seeing his companion fall, choked out in a strangled, frantic voice, “Don’t you die on me!” It was one thing to rehearse combat manoeuvres with practice dummies, training guns and set dressing, but it was another thing entirely to experience the visceral act of killing in the real world.

Logically, she knew these raiders would slaughter her, her companions, and anyone else standing in their way without a moment’s thought, but that didn’t prevent the overwhelming wave of nausea. Autumn staggered back into the alley, knees buckling as she violently retched, images of her own helplessness, as Nate was gunned down, far too vivid. Finally, she was able to stop her shaking, and, trying to avoid the charred bodies, she returned to Codsworth and the dog, who had dispatched the remaining raiders with little trouble.

A voice sounded from the balcony above, “Hey, I don’t know who you are, but I have a group of settlers here, and there are more raiders inside. Take this gun, we need your help!”

“Settlers?” Autumn wondered. But no, now was not the time for questions. Loading and cranking the musket the man had thrown down to her, Autumn braced herself, and they entered the museum. Unfortunately, the raiders, perched on the ramp-way above, held the advantage. Nonetheless, the musket, slow and unwieldy though it was, boasted impressive range and force, and she was able to down one of the gunmen. However, before she had a chance to duck into the darkened room to her side, she felt a bullet lodge into her lower leg; dragging herself into the room, Autumn swore. Codsworth quickly appeared at her side.

“Here take this Ma’am.” Autumn remembered stimpacks, seemingly miraculous hypodermic syringes that could alleviate pain and staunch the flow of blood in mere seconds, and she lost little time in jabbing the medication into her leg. “We’ll need to remove the bullet later, but that should do for now.”

Autumn nodded her thanks, reloaded her weapon and, crouching from the shadowed room, took aim; given the acute throbbing in her leg, it was impossible to repress the twinge of satisfaction when her assailant fell.

The raiders on the second floor were few and isolated from one another, so it was not long before they reached the building’s upper level, where a room at the end of a hallway held a small, ragged group of individuals. It was evident that their recent experience with the raiders had been the final culmination of a prolonged struggle. When their leader, Preston Garvey, a kind-featured man uniformed in a tattered colonial duster, described the group’s flight from the home that had been seized by Gunners, and their subsequent losses before finally arriving in Concord, Autumn’s guesses were confirmed.

Sweet, she's got a dog! C'mere boy! C'mon! C'mon! 🐕‍🦺 And the thing is, since Autumn is already familiar with dogs from the past, she's not going to immediately try to pwn the thing.

On the other hand, she's not going to know mole rats. Which (despite their ugliness) could be just as friendly as the dog. Because she don't know the diff yet. Very good.

WOW look at those graphics!!! I gotta get this game one of these days. Maybe this summer.

Nice, she's got a 'nade she can throw! 💣 Yikes, doing so reminds her of Nate. Is the husband always named Nate, by the way?



THAT is a great explanation of how these things work. A lot of "realism" type gamers scoff the idea of stimpaks, because they're sort of too fantastical for what's supposed to be an alternate portrayal of Earth. So I love how you explained the way they work, at least for healing.

Hey, a suggestion: can you break up the text in future stories? My eyes have trouble going from left to right, I sometimes lose my place. With books, text walls are okay, because I can just use my thumbs to guide my eyes to the next sentence. Can't do this with a screen, not as easily, anyway.

This story's awesome!

Another companion – and one with senses that quite complement and round out those of Autumn and Codsworth.

A rough welcome to mole rats and how tasty they can be. A good precursor for their bloody welcome to Red Rocket area. At least Codsworth is not skinning dead raiders up for dinner. You did a really nice job showing us Autumn’s harsh but needed transition from a more peaceful time to the violence-filled situation in which she now finds herself. Hopefully, her nausea at killing will pass, but not her compassion.

More possible companions or even potential friends? Let’s hope so.



Though I'm fine with it, I see what Renee means. Your writing is very solid, a joy to read and I love the size of your episodes (about 1000 words or so) so if you don't want 'suggestions', please just let us know - after all, the whole purpose here is to have fun and for you to enjoy delivering your story. That said, you might indeed consider shortening your average paragraph length. I normally try not to routinely exceed about half the paragraph length you are using.

One thing that might readily help here is to start a new paragraph each time you change speakers when dialogue is involved. Your opening paragraph of this episode is a great example of where that could apply. My dialogue mentor was SubRosa and, hopefully, she will add her insight here.

One tip I've found helpful is to occasionally use very short paragraphs when you want to emphasize something -

Like this one.

Hooray for canines! (Friendly ones, at least). And had to smile at Codsworth filleting the mole-rats...

The screen-shots add tremendously to the "feel" of the narrative... well done. Equally good is Autumn's experience with training taking over, but then the feeling when reality sets in. The raiders may be murderous scum... okay, no "may be" about it... but they are still people, and Autumn's reaction to the battle shows that she is NOT a psychopath. This installment has plenty of action, but does not sacrifice the overall feeling of the story- that is harder than it looks.

I liked how you painted the introduction of Dogmeat, with the juxtaposition between what Autumn expected, with the german shepherd she got instead.

As Renee and Acadian noted, I do suggest that you break up your paragraphs into smaller units. They get really overwhelming when they are that large, and turn into a daunting wall of text. Don't worry, lots of small paragraphs are just fine. They can be just one sentence long.

Also as was noted, starting a new paragraph every time the speaker changes in dialogue is a good starting point. Otherwise it gets hard to tell who is talking.

I loved the reference to Codsworth jokes. I always loved Wadsorth's jokes in Fallout 3. "I was going to attend the clairvoyants meeting, but it was cancelled due to unforeseen events."

Raiders, I hate these guys...

Autumn handled her first taste of real combat really well, all things considered. I liked how you painted her as a real person, with a real emotional reaction to an extremely emotional and traumatic event.

Thank goodness for stimpaks!

Wow... thanks all.

Inspired by some of the awesome stories I've been reading here, I was going to wait with my replies until I posted the next installment, because, as others here have experienced, I'm somewhat uncomfortable spamming my own thread.

However, you all gave such detailed and incredibly helpful feedback, so this time, at least, I decided to post earlier rather than later.

First, a blanket note:
I definitely see what you are all saying about the long paragraphs, and I have started breaking up my unposted installments, paying particular attention to appropriate dialogue breaks. I have also just started doing this right off the bat in the bit I'm currently writing, and I've found it seems to help make the words flow more freely, as well. So thank you for that!

My previous experience with fan fiction was part of a collaborative effort, which was, of course, a very different beast. This is the first story I've written, however, that is kind of just me. I mean, it is, and it isn't, because, in a sense, everyone here is a part of it as well. If that makes sense?

I really do welcome any and all pointers, so again, cheers!


@Renee,
Heh! Well she is slightly familiar with mole rats, given they were around before... but they're definitely much bigger than she remembers! The vanilla graphics are pretty good, and they did a nice job with the lighting.

Amongst the mods I'm using, I do have texture mods, a basic ENB, and a mod that makes interior lighting a bit more dramatic. So if you decide to pick the game up, and you're interested, I can shoot you my mod list. FO4's mod scene is much smaller than Skyrim's, but, on the plus side, this also makes it easier to maintain a stable load order!

So, the way it works, as you've likely guessed, is that you have the choice of playing one partner of a married couple. The wife is called "Nora" by default, and the husband is named "Nate." So, you can choose the name, stats etc. of whichever one you decide to play, while the other retains their vanilla name. You can change your spouse's appearance, if you want, but I never do. I think default Nate looks fine, and...there's not really much point..

Also, there's a huge list of names that Codsworth can say, so I always choose one of those.

Oh yeah... the seeming magic of stimpacks in the game doesn't work well for fiction, IMO, but I'm not really in the purist camp, either. So, I figured that describing the stimpacks the way I did was a reasonable compromise.

Thanks, glad you're enjoying it!


@Acadian,
Dogmeat is great! In the vanilla game, unlike in FO3, you can't take him alongside a humanoid/robotic companion (though they appear to have originally planned for it), but... mods are wonderful!

*chuckles* Yeah... ewww... I'll be honest, I've never, ever taken the cannibal perk in any Fallout game. I just can't... This may be related to the fact that I'm completely incapable of playing an "evil" (by my definition, anyway) character. Going by D&D alignments, Chaotic Neutral is my limit. I mean, Autumn is most certainly flawed, but I'm pretty sure she'd be horrified at eating human flesh. Anyway.. I'm rambling

Cheers, I appreciate your comment on the transition. That aspect has been slightly challenging to write, so I'm really glad I'm managing to convey Autumn's very necessary adjustment.


@Treydog,
I admit, I had a lot of fun writing that bit with the mole rats.
You have nailed exactly what I'm trying to do where the raiders are concerned... There's absolutely nothing redeeming about them, but they're still people, and Autumn is having a difficult time reconciling this. Thank you As is the case for a lot of people, I struggle somewhat writing action/combat scenes, so I'm glad I seem to be maintaining the actual feel of the story.
Glad you enjoy the screenshots, too. I'm hoping to include them wherever I'm able, at least if the moment fits.


@SubRosa,
The first time I played the game, my reaction was, in fact, much like Autumn's. I was expecting to be ambushed by some variety of horror, and I was instead happily surprised by Dogmeat.

Wadsworth was actually one of my favourite parts of FO3, so I was quite delighted when his more fully developed sibling became my companion!

Thanks for the note on Autumn's first taste of combat, most certainly appreciated! As I mentioned to Treydog, I definitely struggled with that part at first, and the subsequent entries were even more difficult; I'd be lying if I claimed I didn't experience some writer's block as I was trying to get through them. It seems to be going a bit better now, though.

Entry 5: Portent and Power

Preston Garvey, the man who had urgently appealed to them for help, introduced himself as one of the last remaining Minutemen. From what Autumn could glean, they were much like their historical namesake; a civilian militia dedicated to protecting the powerless. She couldn't escape the sudden feeling of having went back in time, rather than forward.

Autumn’s attention was particularly drawn by the woman, introduced by Preston as Marcy, who paced angrily up and down the worn floorboards. Marcy, arms defensively wrapped around herself, as if expecting a blow from any direction, glared at her, emanating both rage and despair. Her husband, Jun, was hunched upon the floor, rocking to and fro, as he stared at some distant point far beyond the room’s shadowed confines. Watching the couple brought a flood of memory, and Autumn turned away, feeling as though she had intruded.

Preston, and Sturgis, a fellow who was apparently some sort of mechanic, had informed her that an intact suit of power armour was situated on the museum’s rooftop, along with a vertibird and minigun. These items, they insisted, would be just what was needed to take on the raiders that were incoming, the only problem being that they required the power of a fusion core to function, one of which was locked away somewhere in the museum’s basement. How they knew danger to be imminent was revealed when she spoke to an older woman seated on the sofa. The dog, Autumn noted, was positioned close to the woman’s feet in a protective stance.

Mama Murphy, as she’d been introduced, eyed her with a vaguely glassy, yet penetrating, stare. “I can see a bit of what was, and what will be. And even what is, right now. And right now I can see there's something coming. Drawn by the noise, and the chaos,” she intoned. Her voice, somehow both forceful and quavering, had a raspy, breathless pitch that was unnerving.

Autumn stepped back, cautious; this singular woman could have just stepped from the vintage clothing and esoterica shop she remembered. She’d always been very sceptical of fortune-tellers and their ilk; most, from what she’d observed, were charlatans, and beyond that, their “craft,” in her view, flew in the face of all the legal training she’d ever undergone. Even an uncannily accurate Tarot reading she’d once consented to, at the coaxing of her more mystically-minded friends, she’d dismissed as vagaries and coincidence.

Mama Murphy continued in the same portentous vein, “Horns, scales…. DEATH…. it’s ANGRY.”

Codsworth, recalling her opinions on anything involving the occult or paranormal, cast Autumn a nervous, sidelong glance. Repressing a groan, Autumn, shifting the conversation, motioned to the shepherd. “Is he your dog, he’s beautiful?”



“Oh no, that’s Dogmeat, he led you to us cause he knew we needed your help. Dogmeat's thoughtful like that. But, he’s his own man, what you’d call a free spirit, he’ll follow you now, I’ve SEEN IT.” Autumn, smiling politely, indicated that she should return to the museum’s lower floors to hunt down the fusion core.

As she made her way to the building’s basement, Autumn’s thoughts pulled her in two different directions, though both were shaped by concern and irritation. The more practical, pressing matter was that she, in fact, possessed some small knowledge of power armour; Nate had shown her a set once, when she’d visited him at his training base. Her impression, at the time, had been one of horror, and, now, the thought of being trapped within its ponderous bulk brought a damp sheen of sweat to her face.

She weighed foregoing the cumbersome suit altogether, knowing full well that once enclosed by its mass, she might well panic, rendering its protections pointless. This thought also returned her to the acute dread she’d experienced upon being placed into the unnaturally cold “cleansing pod,” following their flight to the vault. However, keenly aware that the present required her attendance, she did her best to banish it.

The second irritation, albeit minor in comparison, involved Mama Murphy. Much as Autumn was loath to admit it, there was something about the old woman that actually rang true, and that unsettled her.

“Penny for your thoughts, Ma’am?” Autumn had forgotten that Codsworth had floated down the stairs to join her.

“Mmhmm… I’m just thinking I’d rather not wear that suit of power armour.”

The robot tutted in consternation, “Miss Autumn, you STILL have a bullet in your leg, need I remind you?”

Though touched by the robot’s obvious concern, she sighed. “Yes, but if I’m frozen by the terror of being in that blasted suit, the damned thing won’t do me much good, will it?”

Codsworth conceded that Autumn had a point, but assured her that he’d most certainly lend his firepower against whatever onslaught threatened. “That’s, of course, if more raiders even are coming,” muttered Autumn.

“You forgot the bit about horned, scaled death,” Codsworth offered helpfully. Autumn did not respond.

For some undecipherable reason, looking well pleased with himself, the robot visibly smirked.

A few minutes later, Autumn held the much sought fusion core, as well as several stimpacks that had been deposited near it. Resolving to use one of the stims to treat her leg a second time, before confronting the raiders (if they were in fact coming), Autumn wondered how it was that a mechanic, who was presumably long familiar with his environment, had failed to pick the simple lock that had guarded said fusion core.

Lots of info on this new group of Minutemen that Autumn's fallen in with for now. I don't know what the game offers but I like your explanation of how Dogmeat found Autumn and that he is likely to stay with her now.

Fabulous internal dialogue in Autumn's head as she shares her thoughts and concerns. And she does indeed grab the required power core.

Her concern about the mechanic at the end is a tad worrisome. I hope it's not a harbinger of bad things ahead.

*

You certainly took on board the recommendations about paragraph length here.

I still recommend starting a new paragraph with each dialogue speaker change. With rapid dialogue exchanges that can make for lots of small paragraphs but the mix is interesting. For example you might apply that to the following two paragraphs:

"Penny for your thoughts, Ma’am?” Autumn had forgotten that Codsworth had floated down the stairs to join her. “Mmmm... I’m just thinking I’d rather not wear that suit of power armour.” The robot tutted in consternation, “Miss Autumn, you STILL have a bullet in your leg, need I remind you?”

Though touched by the robot’s obvious concern, she sighed. “Yes, but if I’m frozen by the terror of being in that blasted suit, the damned thing won’t do me much good, will it?” Codsworth conceded that Autumn had a point, but assured her that he’d most certainly lend his fire power against whatever onslaught threatened. “That’s, of course, if more raiders even are coming,” muttered Autumn. “You forgot the bit about horned, scaled death,” Codsworth offered helpfully. Autumn did not respond. For some undecipherable reason, looking well pleased with himself, the robot visibly smirked.

Which would result in this:

“Penny for your thoughts, Ma’am?” Autumn had forgotten that Codsworth had floated down the stairs to join her.

“Mmmm... I’m just thinking I’d rather not wear that suit of power armour.”

The robot tutted in consternation, “Miss Autumn, you STILL have a bullet in your leg, need I remind you?”

Though touched by the robot’s obvious concern, she sighed. “Yes, but if I’m frozen by the terror of being in that blasted suit, the damned thing won’t do me much good, will it?” Codsworth conceded that Autumn had a point, but assured her that he’d most certainly lend his fire power against whatever onslaught threatened. “That’s, of course, if more raiders even are coming,” muttered Autumn.

“You forgot the bit about horned, scaled death,” Codsworth offered helpfully. Autumn did not respond. For some undecipherable reason, looking well pleased with himself, the robot visibly smirked.

I find it so hilarious that the Minutemen are represented in this game. Do these soldiers even still exist? I'd say that's worth a trip to Wikipedia.

Minutemen were members of the organized New England colonial militia companies trained in weaponry, tactics, and military strategies during the American Revolutionary War. They were known for being ready at a minute's notice, hence the name.

Ha, emphasis on the word "were". Original minutemen were supposed to be ready "at a minute's notice" but they fired musket guns, probably used whatever other implements were around (tools, shovels, etc.) whereas FO4's versions are going to be grabbing explosives. Laser weapons, and so on. Anyway, I totally get Autumn getting that feeling of moving back in time. Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't FO4's minutesoldiers wear those silly hats?

Really love all the little insights going on from Autumn's viewpoint. Like when she sees Mama Murphy and begins thinking about vintage shops from xxx many years ago.

Mm hmm, I agree, the thought of claustrophobia in a power armor suit. What if we somehow get stuck in there?



A popular theme in Bethesda games, eh? "If this guild is full of capable warriors who spar all day, why can't just ONE of them join me as I head off to that cave? Why is it that it's always up to ME to get everything done outside of town walls?"

or

"If I'm now a member of the Brotherhood of Steel, its Citadel filled with power armor-wearing soldiers who'd (you'd think) would be all about getting out there to kick some Wasteland Ass, why does only one of them (Star Paladin Cross) elect to join me? And she's not even that good at keeping herself alive?"

... and so on.

The eternal question, "Why is it always left up to me?"

Excellent character-building AND moving the story forward in this installment. Autumn's claustrophobic concern about the power armor is a well-designed trait.

Way back in the Daggerfall days, one of the parts of character creation that I liked was the "Disadvantages."

Such as "Trey cannot use iron weapons."

For someone doing a serious RP with their game, those limitations were perfect for providing little background details. And it also made it less possible for every character (regardless of chosen "profession" to be just like every other character.

Autumn's reaction to Mother Murphy also provides insight into who she was, as well as who she is becoming.

And a hat-tip for pointing out the inconsistency of otherwise supposedly competent non-player characters who are nevertheless unable to find their ... um... glutes... with both hands and a flashlight UNTIL the player characters shows up....

This was a nice, richly evocative introduction to the refugee group whom some of us know will go on to settle in Sanctuary. The little pieces of each character you show us paints a colorful portrait of each in a short passage of text.

I can certainly see how being ensconced in a suit of powered armor might feel claustrophobic. Especially given how they are portrayed in Fallout 4, where they are more vehicles than attire. It could easily feel like being trapped in an armored coffin. Especially if the power even went out.

Next up, horned and scaled death.




I have noticed you have a habit of run on sentences, which can grow cumbersome to read. A good way to remind yourself where to cut off your sentences and start new ones is to read them out loud. When you find yourself running out of breath, that is probably where you want to stop. Also if you are breaking up a sentence into multiple commas, that is a good sign that maybe you should break that into multiple separate sentences instead.

For example this:
These items, they insisted, would be just what was needed to take on the raiders that were incoming, the only problem being that they required the power of a fusion core to function, one of which was locked away somewhere in the museum’s basement.

Could be turned into this:
They insisted that these items would be just what was needed to take on the raiders that were incoming. The only problem being that they required the power of a fusion core to function. One of those was locked away somewhere in the museum’s basement.

@Acadian,
the explanation regarding Dogmeat is actually in the vanilla-game, and I felt it made sense to just go with it. I mean, we already have a fortune teller in our midst, so why not a supernaturally aware canine too? Though, there are plenty of "interesting" theories out there concerning the pup.

I've tried further shortening some paragraphs where it comes to dialogue, though, in some places, I've kept bits together because it occasionally makes sense. Thanks for pointing this out those examples, I definitely appreciate it!

@Renee,
Heh! Yep, I remember going to Wikipedia when I first played the game as well. I do know a bit about US history, but not in-depth, so I was curious about the Minutemen. And, oh yes... they definitely do have those hats; to be honest, though, I kind of like them.

@Macole,
Indeed.... The number of times I have said while playing most games, "Why me?"

@Treydog,
Cheers
I wish I could take credit for deliberately giving Autumn a weakening trait, or one intended as RP... I'm claustrophobic in RL, though, and because of that, I have a lot of trouble using PA, or even just basic heavy armour, when I play games. So.. it's almost necessary to give Autumn the same problem, since I actually have no real idea how to write about PA. Plus, if I'm honest, I also just don't like it very much, it's loud and clunky. Still... it does make for some creativity during combat at times, and I have sometimes used it in the RP sense.

@SubRosa,
I'm glad I succeeded in giving snapshots of each character, that's definitely what I was aiming for.
Oh yeah.. run-on sentences are certainly a habit I've picked up over the past few years because of some other writing I've been involved with, so I appreciate the reminder. I have tried, with this entry, to reduce them a bit, though there are still some I kept, where they seem to fit.

~~~

Ugh... yeah... I've always thought Sturgis not being able to pick locks was ridiculous, and entirely needless poor writing on Bethesda's part. Why they didn't just say something like, "Hey, we have the fusion core, but after everything that's happened, we were trying to figure out what to do." They still come off as helpless, and as though they're waiting for the protagonist to come along and help them locate certain parts of their anatomies, but at least it would be a little more logical.

~~~

A note: I've been debating whether or not to add this preamble, but, in the end, I decided it might be a good idea. One section in this entry was... somewhat difficult for me to write, which means it might also be difficult for some people to read. I haven't broken any forum rules or anything, and there's simply implication, nothing further... but it's there. You'll know you're close when you see the name "Gristle." So... light trigger warning.

~~~




Entry 6: Lessons Learned

Codsworth, excited at the sight of the power armour, proclaimed, “I say Ma’am, you’ll be unstoppable in that!”



Eyeing the rusted suit with considerable trepidation, Autumn grimaced and jammed the fusion core into the indent at its back. Several things happened almost simultaneously. The metallic exoskeleton of circuits, steel, and bolts shuddered and emitted a shower of blindingly blue sparks, accompanied by an ear-splitting, clanging screech. It then, almost in slow motion, swayed to the ground, visibly coming apart as it did so.

Relieved that the decision had been made for her, Autumn glanced toward the vertibird and the minigun within. Several generations of rust had taken their toll here too; the weapon had dropped from its disintegrated mount and Autumn questioned whether it would even still fire. She was also forced to conclude that Preston and Sturgis, in their beleaguered state, had failed to accurately assess the condition of the equipment they’d been so eager to commandeer.

Abandoning the useless power armour, Autumn, and an anxious Codsworth, re-entered the museum and descended to the first floor. Cautiously, she cracked open the door and scanned the area. If more raiders were in the vicinity, they had yet to show themselves; the three-way intersection in front of the museum appeared devoid of life, except for the crows that were perched on blackened telephone poles.

For a moment, she wondered why the birds took no interest in the previously dispatched raiders; however, she was acutely grateful for their apparent lack of appetite.



To further ensure the area was deserted, Autumn fired an experimental shot at a rusted out car nearby. Although this caused the car to explode, only the flapping crows reacted. Codsworth suggested they hide in one of the buildings lining the road; it would provide cover, and allow Autumn the chance to snipe at any raiders, while the robot distracted them with his flamer and saw.

Glad she’d grabbed one of the odd pipe-like rifles she’d found when rifling through a dead raider’s kit, she loaded its magazine with several rounds of .38 bullets, thankful that they were a particularly common variety of ammo. Although the gun was a cheap, rudimentary affair, it offered a far faster rate of fire than the much sturdier musket, as well as possessing a similar range. Of course, all of this was assuming the raiders actually did appear.

Harsh shouts and the scuffing of boots on pavement could be heard in the near distance. Autumn glanced at Codsworth, her expression both wary and, for a moment, blatantly disbelieving. From her position, Autumn saw the group was gathering around the charred, dismembered corpses strewn near the museum. She could hear increasingly alarmed yells and bits of conversation.

“Bo and Annie are dead, what the Hell are we gonna tell Little Dougie!?” Autumn paled.

“They’re raiders, Miss Autumn, it is critical you remember that,” said Codsworth in a low, but firm, tone. Admonishment delivered, the robot, at full speed, announcing himself with oddly anomalous shouts of “Tally Ho!” and “Have at thee!,” accelerated toward the knot of raiders flamers ablaze and saws whirring.

Autumn, gritting her teeth, and reflecting that Codsworth demonstrated far more combat prowess than he’d suggested he possessed during their breakfast conversation, took aim. “One down,” she muttered.

The raiders, though, while neither the most disciplined nor organised fighters, were not lacking in awareness, and one, the man she’d heard referred to as “Gristle,” turned in the direction of her shot. “You guys deal with the robot, I’m gonna check what’s in that building,” indicated Gristle.

Codsworth’s opponents, now bloodied and suffering multiple burns, glared wordlessly at their leader’s apparent retreat. Trying to maintain her advantage, Autumn slipped behind a counter just seconds before Gristle entered the dilapidated shop. Before his eyes had the chance to adjust, she silently reached for her pistol and fired. Autumn’s bullet, however, went wide and merely grazed the heavily scarred figure. With horrifying alacrity, he unsheathed a serrated combat knife and advanced towards the counter, breaking into a slow, gratified smile when he spied his quarry.

Shaking, her blood running cold, Autumn fired again, this time managing to hit Gristle’s upper arm. He winced in pain, but did not slow his approach. Her finger squeezed down on the trigger, and losing all control, Autumn pumped the few remaining 10 mm bullets into Gristle’s torso. His leather chest piece, however, provided Gristle with a measure of protection, and although wounded, he growled and grasped Autumn’s shoulder, pinning her to the wall, his heavy breath foetid upon her.

Instinct took over, and with a scream, she brought her knee up in a forceful, adrenalin-fuelled slam.

Gristle let out an agonised grunt, and, clutching at himself, venomously spilling expletives, he staggered to the side. Seeing her chance, Autumn jumped up, pushed past the heaving Gristle, and ran out into the road, grateful she’d remembered to use another stimpack before re-engaging the raiders.

Codsworth, looking worse for wear, was battling two profusely bleeding raiders; their fellows having joined those whose lives had already seeped into the ground. Quickly, Autumn raised the pipe rifle and shot; her target lurched, and Codsworth brought his saw to bear.



From the balcony above, Autumn could hear the sound of a musket being cranked, and then, the remaining raider exploded in a cascade of gore.

“Righty-ho,” chirped Codsworth, “I do believe that’s all of them!”

“Not quite,” she responded, her voice strained.

“Miss Autumn, why you’re shaking again, is everything all…..” Before the worried robot was able to finish his sentence, a shuddering roar reverberated through the almost empty streets. They heard a frantic shout from the balcony, “DEATHCLAW!”

"Technology will save us!" To which Autumn (and a bunch of other people) reply, "And what historical precedent are you citing for that?"

But more to the point (and Autumn's relief) 200+ year-old, unmaintained tech may not exactly be up to spec- as anyone who has ever tried to get power equipment working again after a SINGLE winter can attest. (Even without assuming the intervention of inquisitive and opportunistic rodents).

You continue to beautifully depict our main character's adaptation to her new reality- in all its ugly brutality. She is still dealing with barbarity without becoming barbaric herself.

And ... oh boy... a lizard....

Like Autumn, I was glad (for her) that the claustrophobic set of power armor was too far gone to use. Too bad about the vertibird and its minigun though.

Another raider battle and, again, you give them a bit of personality to drive home the fact that they actually are human beings with feelings – both good and evil. Glad she was able to put down Gristle before he could make good on his creepy smile. Codsworth is continuing to earn his keep via both his advice, encouragement, admonishments and combat prowess. Is Dogmeat still with her?

Uh oh, a mutant Daedroth approaching. . . will Autumn and her robopal run, hide or fight? I’d vote for one of the first two options.

I do love how the 200 year old suit of power armor turned on, and then immediately broke! It was a nice little nod to the reality of the need to constantly maintain any source of technology.

And a confusing brawl as Codsworth charges right in. Autumn's plan to snipe from the roof falls apart as quickly as every plan that meets contact with the enemy. A harrowing encounter with the Raider boss ensued, bringing home the desperation and ugliness of fighting for one's life. As Autumn runs back out in the street, I am left to wonder if Gristle is actually dead, or if he will stagger out in soon to join the fight. Or slink back to Corvega when all is said and done with.

Sorry for the late update! Real life and some technical headaches, combined with having become immersed in Dragon Age Origins, so it was a bit difficult to switch gears, since they're such different games.

@Treydog,
indeed.... I rather imagine Autumn has decidedly mixed feelings on the "wonders" of technology....

I agree! It has always struck me as odd that the game allows you to just step into fully functional sets of power armour (that have been standing out in the elements for 200+ years), especially because one of the NPCs/companions you meet later on will, in fact, express concern over his PA rusting when he's out in the rain for just an hour or so.

Thanks

@Acadian,
Thank you... It's difficult, because raiders really are scum, but even so, they're still people, and.... compassion is sort of Autumn's Achilles Heel.

@SubRosa,
Yep! As I mentioned to Treydog, there's no way that old PA should STILL be working!
*grins*... Ah yes... Gristle...



~~~

Entry 7: The Monster



It was possible he had neither heard the roar, nor the warning; or perhaps, he'd been wholly consumed by rage. Running into the road, still intent upon his pursuit, Gristle did not notice the creature that now barrelled toward him.

A musket shot rang out.

Gristle began to respond. Then, realising he had not, in fact, been the target, he instinctively turned in the direction Preston was firing. Immediate panic took hold, and the raider, in a blind rush, bolted across the road and into an alley.

Autumn, making no move, observed him, dispassionately.

The deathclaw switched course, and followed.

Moments later, they heard a single, excruciated scream.

Codsworth, fortunately, at that juncture, had the presence of mind to seize Autumn’s arm, and spur her toward the building where they’d previously sheltered. Autumn winced upon crossing its threshold, but she knew the creature that had just slain Gristle posed a far greater threat than the recollection of her recent narrow escape.

Intact stairs led to a second floor, and then another set to a third. Even better, the building’s uppermost floor had an adjoining balcony, and it was here, concealed by a large post, that Autumn crouched. She turned to the robot, “Codsworth, please don’t engage the deathclaw up close, it needs to be taken out at range, you heard what it did to Gristle.” Although unhappy, Codsworth appeared to acquiesce.

It did not take long before the deathclaw emerged from the alley. Snout and incisors stained dark red, it raised its head to sniff the air. Autumn aimed; although she hit the beast, she was too far to really inflict harm. She did, however, succeed in attracting its attention. The deathclaw, eyes blazing, lunged, and loped toward the building. Once more, Autumn fired; the second shot delivered slightly more damage, but, even so, she may as well have been tossing pebbles at the thick, scaled hide.

She was reminded of legendary creatures from mythology.“At least it can’t fly or breathe fire,” muttered Autumn, as she readied her musket.

Fuelled by frustration and anger, the deathclaw again roared, and swiped at the balcony; splinters and battered tiles swept into the dust below. The balcony shook. Autumn, cranking the musket, let loose a torrent of profanity; had it been possible, Codsworth would have blushed.



Suddenly, they heard a shot from the museum's balcony, “Hey ugly, over here!” yelled Preston, loudly, cranking his weapon again.

The deathclaw turned, uncertain, and headed toward the new source of irritation. As it advanced in the direction of the museum, Autumn moved further to the balcony’s edge, and, with some reluctance, reached for her remaining grenade, pulled the pin, and launched it at the deathclaw. The acrid stench of burning hide assaulted her, and the creature pitched sideways. After a moment, however, still on fire, it righted itself, and continued its path toward the museum.

The whirring crank of Preston’s laser musket intensified, and a ruby flare rushed toward the enraged beast; briefly illuminated by a faint red glow, it roared in obvious pain.

From the corner of her eye, Autumn observed a metallic figure rapidly manoeuvring toward the deathclaw. “Codsworth!” she yelled. Flames and spinning saw engaged horns and gaping maw.



Preston again cranked his weapon, and Autumn, unable to bear the thought of potentially losing Codsworth, ran down the stairs, and into the road for a closer shot. As if timed, the simultaneous whoosh of two laser muskets joined, and, in an instant, what had resembled a being from nightmares, capable of snuffing out life with a single swipe of its claw, dissipated into a smouldering pile of ash.



Kneeling beside cooling ashes, Autumn felt regret. Despite the fear that had coursed through her during the battle, she’d also experienced awe. The creature had possessed a certain majesty, and although it had been driven by instinct, she’d seen the unequivocal spark of intelligence in its eyes. Grabbing a small box she’d found, Autumn gently scooped the ashes into it, and placed the container into her pack. Codsworth gave her a perplexed, musing look, but said nothing.

Preston Garvey and his group were gathered to welcome them on the museum’s lower floor. “That…that was an impressive display…. I’m sure glad you’re on our side,” he said.

Autumn raised her eye, “I don’t think I’d exactly call it impressive, and besides, I was hardly alone. I’d be dead if it hadn’t been for you and Codsworth.” Dogmeat bounded up to her, and whined. “When you guys went out there, it was everything we could do to keep him with us,” explained Preston. Autumn knelt down, and burrowed her head into the soft fur, murmuring. “Hey, it’s OK, boy, we’re fine now.”

More collected, Autumn stood and surveyed the group. Suddenly remembering something, Preston approached, dug into his pocket and offered her a large pile of bottle caps. “I know we didn’t say anything about it, but here, you deserve these.”



Confused, Autumn looked at Codsworth for direction. The robot, realising the situation, quickly explained, “Bottle caps are used as currency now, Ma’am.”

Taken aback, she shook her head at Preston, “I didn’t do it for any reward, you guys were in trouble.”

It was Preston’s turn to be surprised. “I… are you sure? Seriously? I mean, sorry, it’s just… that’s pretty unusual these days,” he stammered. Then, another thought struck him, “Hey, you know what, you should come with us to Sanctuary.”

Artemis, that deathclaw looks truly frightening. OKay, they always look scary. But the stark contrast between the monster and the run-down street it's standing on. Yeesh.

Phew, Codsworth is there. What level is Autumn? Doesn't seem like she's very experienced, yet there's already deathies mucking about???

Is Cods now taking the beast head on? Looks like Autumn's gonna need a bigger bot.

Yep, bottlecaps are currency now. I've always found it ironic in our modern times bottles have small amounts of value if they are recycled in a state which has a return policy. Nobody cares about the caps. Well in postwar Fallout games, it's the caps which have value. Nobody cares about bottles. 🍼

And Gristle meets a well-earned end...

I hope they cannot breathe fire or fly. But that would mean that Autumn was in a different game...

Clever of her to get out of the street and up to the high ground to fight the deathclaw. I never tried that. Though I think IRL the deathclaw would be able to climb the side of the building simply enough, using its claws to punch hand and footholds. Or it could just knock the building down, especially if it is wooden. It is a good thing Preston was there to distract the deathclaw from doing either, and get its attention away from Autumn and the building.

Codsworth - you glorious bastard - there you go in hand to hand! Have at thee!

I have always liked the deathclaws too. In the same way I like Godzilla. With most character I often go out of my way to simply avoid them, rather than have to kill them. Sometimes though, I am playing a character who is more sanguine, and they will sometimes seek out deathclaws for a real melee battle.

I see what you mean about Autumn's compassion. Fortunately, she does what she needs to do before considering that Raiders may have families or Deathclaws may be majestic.

Codsworth has some stones going all chainsaw on the Deathclaw. Fortunately, it seems Autumn and Prescott were able to distract and ping pong the beast between them until it went down.

Need to dig into Fanfiction again! lots and lots to read...Ahh This story is excellent and I do appreciate the pics! will read thoroughly
Hmm what if I maybe...continue something
Well yes I have said that before as the guys who used to know me are well aware of

Excellent pictures once again- providing perfect accompaniment to the words. The more we see of Autumn, the more I like her. Her ability to recognize the inherent value of the Deathclaw is quite remarkable. And Codsworth!? You DO realize that you are not made of vibranium, don't you?

Of particular note was that Autumn did not manage to defeat the Deathclaw on her own, but contributed to the battle.



They crossed the streams, didn't they? Even though Ray said to "never cross the streams."

And now- off to Sanctuary? Can't wait to read and find out.

Continue? You mean a story?

(Sorry for off-topic)

@Renee,
lol! Yeah.... I am using texture replacers for everything, but the buildings/streetscape definitely have a dusty, rundown look, while the much fresher deathclaws are far more vivid, which I think adds to the overall impression.

I think Autumn was around level three during that fight. The game has received quite a lot of criticism for throwing the player PA that early, and introducing deathclaws so quickly. I'm not really too fussed, personally (especially given I don't even use the PA), but I do see why some have raised objections.
Cods was indeed taking the claw head-on. I have the game set to "Very Difficult." In Skyrim, even companion NPCs scale to the game's difficulty, and I have the feeling it's the same here, because when Autumn was taking pot shots at that thing from her perch, Codsworth was doing an excellent job of reducing its health bar. He could have probably killed it all on his own, in fact.

Oh, and don't worry about the off topic post you made later on.. I don't like to spam my own thread, but all things considered, I'm not fussed about things like that.

@SubRosa

*grins* In my head, I like to imagine Autumn would have probably played games like Skyrim, Dragon Age etc. in her off time, so I couldn't resist adding that line.

Yikes! Though... had the deathclaw tried to climb the side of the building, that would have certainly made for an interesting battle scene. Damn.. missed opportunity there. Ah well...

Usually, I try to avoid deathclaws, as well. It's not always possible, of course, but most of the time, you can see them from a ways off, at least. Though, I agree, melee combat can definitely be entertaining at times.

@Acadian,
Indeed, that little robot is certainly courageous. I've always been fond of him, and that has only increased since I began writing; I've really enjoyed further developing his character.

@Minque,
Thank you so much, and I'm glad you like the pics! I actually remember you from when I was here before. During that time my visits were a lot more sporadic, but I always carried fond memories of the site, and only returned myself a month or so back. Acadian was wonderful in helping me to combat the hurdles of resetting my account.
I very much look forward to the continuation of any stories you post!

@Treydog,
Thank you, that means a lot. It is very much my intent to portray Autumn as somebody who isn't super-powerful right off the bat. That's something that has always bothered me a bit with the game. The male protagonist, Nate, has a military background, while the female protagonist is, of course, a lawyer.. So, it makes at least some sense that Nate has relatively little trouble with combat... With the female protagonist, though, we need to rely on imagination/head canon... Thankfully, I've never found that very difficult, but, even so, I absolutely wanted Autumn to be at least a bit vulnerable. After all, she's been frozen for over 200 years, on top of any other circumstances, she's going to be out of practice. Also... I just really loved the idea of Codsworth, Preston and Autumn working together in that scene. Plus, when I first got into gaming, I played party-based RPGs like Baldur's Gate 2 and Planescape: Torment. I enjoyed them (and still enjoy them) a great deal, and the party banter/dynamics left a lasting effect on me.

I actually had to look up the 'crossing streams' reference. Although that wasn't deliberate, now you mention it...there's a curious aptness to the whole thing.

~~~

Entry 8: Beginnings



“Um...” Before Autumn could continue, Marcy burst into the conversation.

“Sanctuary? You mean that place Mama Murphy saw in her ‘visions’ when she was stoned out of her gourd?!?”

Preston and Sturgis did their best to defuse the situation. Feeling that she should step in, Autumn spoke, “Actually, Sanctuary does exist, we’ve just come from there. It’s pretty destroyed though.”

“Well,” responded Preston, “I doubt it’s much more destroyed than everywhere else, so I guess the important thing is, do you think it can live up to its name? I sure hope so, because after everything we’ve been through, we need somewhere we can settle, build and feel safe.”

At that, Autumn paused, acknowledging that, beyond the immediate area, she still had no real knowledge of her new world. She had only been able to compare the community she’d known to the wreckage that existed now.

Codsworth interjected, “Oh, I think I can vouch for it being safe, in the two hundred years I’ve spent there, nary a raider has dared show their face!”

“Two hundred...,” began Preston. Autumn, realising, in that moment, just how exhausted she was, turned to him. “I... Look, can we talk about this later? I have a bullet in my leg, and I need to get back.”

“Do you think you can walk Ma’am?” asked Codsworth, concerned. “If necessary, I can fetch the old wheelbarrow, it’s what I used yest...”

Autumn flinched, and hurriedly responded. “I think I’ll be fine Codsworth, I just have to take it a bit slow. First, though, there’s something I need to do.”

Limping slightly, she walked into the alley where the deathclaw had consumed its final meal.

Gristle’s corpse lay mangled beyond recognition. She took the dead raider’s shotgun and fired. Then flinging the weapon back down, she turned and rejoined the small group that waited for her in silence.


Mama Murphy gave her an uncomfortably knowing glance; Autumn, though, just pointed her arm in the direction of Sanctuary.



The short trip passed without incident, and was only punctuated by Sturgis’ covetous excitement at seeing the Red Rocket. “Well, Lookee, I think I’ve just found my new vacation home!,” he exclaimed with glee.



Codsworth chuckled, “I’m afraid you may have to fight Miss Autumn for it, she was giving that place quite the proprietary look-over when we went by this morning.”

Scratching the back of his head awkwardly, Sturgis, turned to her. “Hey now, I don’t want to step on nobody’s toes or nothin’, it ain’t that big a deal.”

Autumn laughed; despite her earlier misgivings, she’d taken a liking to the easy-going mechanic. “We can fight about it later, Sturgis, right now I just want this bullet out of my leg.”

Preston spoke up. “I have a little experience in field surgery, I can help you out there, if you’d like.”

Codsworth interjected. “It’s a good idea. I’m very handy, but these metal appendages do have their limits.” Remembering the mole rats, Autumn hastily concurred.

Soon enough, they reached the small bridge that led into Sanctuary. Preston’s reaction, at seeing the statue that still stood there, was one of happy relief.

“Well, I'll be damned. It's the monument to the original Minutemen. I knew that was somewhere around Concord. That means this right here must be the Old North Bridge. Where the first shots of the American Revolution were fired. I'd call that the best omen I've seen since we left Quincy."



Quincy, the settlement that Preston and the others had been forced to escape… Autumn felt a sharp stab of sympathy and was reminded of casework she’d done...refugees fleeing unimaginable horrors in beloved homelands they’d never see again. She regarded the monument with new eyes, “It’s odd, I never really thought about it in that light before.”

“Before….” Preston murmured. “So what Codsworth was saying earlier….” Autumn nodded.

“Ma’am, if I may interrupt, your wound appears to have opened again,” motioned Codsworth, his concern apparent. Autumn glanced down at the bloody stain that decorated the leg of her jeans and grimaced.

“Yeah, let's get that dealt with,” asserted Preston. A few minutes later, Autumn was seated on the ancient couch in her former home. Codsworth hovered worriedly as Preston examined the bullet’s insertion point.

“It hasn’t gone in too deep, thankfully, but removing it will hurt. Codsworth, is there any kind of alcohol around, so we can sterilise the wound? Maybe a shot down the hatch would be an idea as well, I also have some Med-X here to help with the pain.”

“I do believe so, one moment,” responded the robot, retreating into the bedroom Autumn had once shared with Nate. Codsworth returned with a bottle of vodka.

Autumn’s jaw tightened; she then contemplated the Med-X. “Sterilise the wound, but I don’t want to drink that stuff, and I don’t want the Med-X either.”

Preston gave her a searching look, but only said, “OK, but we should at least find a bit of cloth or something that you can bite down on.”

She nodded her acceptance, and attempting to grin, turned to the robot. “Codsworth, maybe try one of those awful floral print blouses, if any have survived. They’d make for a perfect sacrifice.”

Codsworth soon returned with a garishly coloured garment, and Autumn viewed it with complete loathing. “Gods, I hated that thing, at least now it will serve a useful purpose.”

Preston, it transpired, was, in fact, a skilled field surgeon, though Autumn made good use of the material wedged between her teeth, yelping as he extracted the bullet with what were clearly forceps. The procedure itself, however, was mercifully quick. Autumn breathed her relief, and, feeling the effects of another stimpack wash over her, relaxed into the couch as Codsworth busied himself with mole rat meat and vegetables.

Through the broken window she overheard Marcy and Jun. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore Jun. I’m fine, just leave me alone.” Marcy’s voice was harsh, raw and painfully brittle. Autumn closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the memory….




“No, I can’t talk about this anymore... You can’t understand, and I want to stop remembering, I want to stop the dreams. I just want to sleep.

“Please, love.... you need help. If you won’t talk to me, at least think about seeing a doctor...”

“NO DAMMIT! Just leave me ALONE!”

Upon its impact against the wall, the bottle exploded into a shower of glittering shards. The caustic reek of spirits filled the room.

Shaun’s pitched wails followed...

Nate, spent, folded into the chair, weeping.




Autumn’s gaze landed on the vodka that remained on the table; swallowing back tears, she gingerly stood. Careful to avoid placing too much weight on her leg, she limped to the back window and poured the bottle’s contents into the dusty ground.

Thankfully, a safe trip to what will hopefully be a safer place. Sanctuary. . . sounds nice.

Glad that Autumn is now free of that pesky bullet. Hopefully, she’ll heal up well. It’s nice that she has a little group that can offer mutual support.

More memories of what can only be referred to as her previous life.

I liked how Preston rather perceptively pointed out that everything is destroyed. So Sanctuary was not going to be any worse than anywhere else. At least its not radioactive.

I do love the idea of Autumn sprawling out in a wheelbarrow and Codsworth pushing her!

Autumn is a straight edge I see. I wonder if that is because she was an addict before the war and got clean? Or if she is afraid of becoming one? Or is she more like me, and just gets high on life? In any case, the Klingon in me approves of her undergoing surgery without anesthesia. Qapla!

And a gut-wrenching memory from the past that invites one to wonder what sort of trauma Autumn and Nate endured? Was Shaun a twin, whose sibling died at or before birth? Or was it something else?

You have your game set in VERY HARD difficulty????? Is Autumn constantly dying/reloading? -- Hmm, doesn't sound like FO4 is all that hard if Cods can handle a deathie by itself.

Eesh, Gristle got eaten partially, yick. Well it looks like Autumn's found herself some civilzed folk to be with, other than the deathclaw and Gristle, at least.

Um yeah, Sturgis, can you just... I dunno, get this bullet out of my leg?

The recollections she's having about the past are magnificent.

She's back home, wow. These memories. That's gotta be tough. Why doesn't she want any Med-X?

Showing my age with "crossing the streams" I guess. For some reason, that stuck with me, mostly because of Bill Murray's "I'm not real clear on this whole 'good/bad' thing. So what do you mean by 'bad'?"

Anyway. As ever, a masterful selection of screen captures to enhance the also excellent story-telling. You have a deft touch for providing just enough of Autumn's background to leave the reader curious. The pieces appear naturally in the course of the telling, instead of as a "data-dump." (That is much HARDER than it looks). The flashback is a good example- it fits into the moment of the story, but does not overstay its welcome. (Of course, given my penchant for flashbacks, perspective shifts, cliff-racer... um... cliff-hanger endings....) Nevertheless, the flashback gives us more insight into a character with depth and complexity.