Chatper 1: Desert Breeze
“I am Firestorm, courier number six for the Martingale express. I’ve never wanted to do much with my life. I deliver packages and they deliver me to places. That’s how it’s been for a long time. I walk the desert like some sort of omniscient pony. An omnipony if you will. It’s just a day like any other. A package towards a town called Geldsprings. It was supposed to be a delivery like any other. Until that pony with a suit showed up. He tied me up and put a gun against my head. Most of it’s fuzzy but all I remember is something bout “the game being rigged from the start” or some shit. Now Doc can you tell me who you are?”
The gray and brown pony stood up from his chair.
“I’m doctor Jockey. You seem to look pretty good for someone who was shot in the head. From that story seems like your brain’s pretty intact too. Why don’t we do a few checks”
Firestorm got up and stretched his body. Everything seemed to be in good condition. He opened his mouth to speak but the doctor had already dragged him to an odd machine before beginning to exposit about it. While Firestorm half-heartedly listened to the doctor he began to wonder what did exactly happen, and how to get back at the whatever that shot him. While he moved through the tests it seemed the Doc was finally at the end of his explanations.
“Now here’s all the stuff you had on you when you got here. Feel free to a bit of supplies too.”
Firestorm graciously took his things. Everything seemed in order his old 9mm pistol some food, water and a healing potion with a stimpack. Of course his package was gone but honestly that is most likely why whoever went after him in the first place. When he finally thought he was ready to leave the Doc Jockey’s voice rang out from behind him nearly pushing his boiling point. The Doc was levitating a mechanical device he had seen before on people towards them. “This is what’s called a pipbuck. As a doctor I don’t really need it anymore. I figure you can make better use of it than I can. It’s got maps, item sorting, and a targeting system to boot.” Firestorm thanked the good Doc profusely before slipping on the pipbuck and feeling it cling onto his left hoof. He began to monologue to himself as he was prone to do. “Damn this thing is heavy. I could club a pony with this.” He slipped his belongings into his couriers bag and jacket and set off towards the town looking for answers.
Author's Note 1: On Firestorm and other miscellaneous things
Author's Note
On a few things that I've added to FO:E because they make sense. Stimpacks are in essence an injectable healing potion that is made for healing limb damage. It's made by guess what? Pouring a potion into a syringe. It seems like something that ponies would have figured out. Now on the the real reason for this note. SPECIAL stats.
_ _ _
S.P.E.C.I.A.L. for Firestorm
Strength-6
Perception-6
Endurance -6
Charisma -5
Intelligence-7
Agility- 5
Luck-5
This is mainly built off a great actual fallout NV build.
Skills
Barter-30 (Tagged)
Energy Weapons-17
Explosives- 17
Guns- 30 (Tagged)
Lockpick- 17
Medicine-19
Melee- 17
Repair- 34 (Tagged)
Science -19
Sneak - 15
Survival-17
Unarmed- 17
Hope this helps in some way.
Prolouge: Gales from the past.
PROLOGUE : GALES FROM THE PAST
It was quiet in the town that sat near the Coltorado river. It was a small village and had no name. It was quite possible the one of the safest places to be in the wastes. It was easily defended from the cliffs it sat on and had no real reason to raid or attack other than the normal ones. But the real reason the town was so safe was one inhabitant. He was supposedly one of the best shots out there and was passing his skills to his son, Firestorm. That is until that day. FireStorm awoke covered in the blood of his dead mother. His fur matted with sweat as a man walked in the door. It was wearing a mask but the voice, the voice would haunt him. The pony no beast laid a broken revolver at his feet. “I’m sorry son. I’ve got to go.” and so he did. The town universally blamed his father for his actions as did Firestorm. Unfortunately for the settlement his disappearance and the death of many of their guards left the town open to attack. The fires were all consuming on that little village with no name. Firestorm evaded death by his namesake by pure luck. Luck that would not follow him throughout his travels.
He had set out to find a way to survive. With a broken revolver, a few caps, some food and his wits. He found himself at the Martingale Express as a courier. Not the most remarkable of ponies but he got the job done. They say he never stopped looking for his father for what reason no one can say. These days he was not Firestorm he was courier six. That was enough for now. To live. To survive. This is the tale of Firestorm, no courier six. How he finds out that while war never changes neither do heroes change.
