Finally all caught up! I agree with @Specialist290 on the White Legs: I'm definitely trying not to cheer for them, but it's getting harder and harder!
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Thanks for reading along, and thanks for the ACA vote! I'll be working in some alternative character perspectives, so perhaps I can moderate the White Legs bias my AAR has. I don't want to condemn them, and I honestly wasn't totally sold on the Savages of Utah title because it kind of pigeon holes them, but I couldn't think of anything better. I'm glad the complexity is coming across, especially since civilization is relative.
Sorry for the rambling, and thanks again for the support!
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You’ve read my stuff, you know I love rambling! Honestly I’m a big fan of the varying points of view. And the wasteland is perfect for this, given how polarised everyone’s culture is!
Also, Jump is already one of my favourite characters in any AAR
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I really love them too, and there should be a couple decently interesting ones coming up while Albert should slowly become a bit more important. I really enjoy the different cultures, which is possibly why I find the Hellenistic era so fascinating; Greek and Roman culture were widespread, but there were numerous tribes and the world was really quite divided. It's too bad Imperator seems so empty since I love that era, but that might be partly why I enjoy your AAR so much (beside the good writing and interesting story of course).
Thank you so much for the praise! I've enjoyed writing her a lot more than I thought I would, and I hope she continues to interest you.
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Indeed, I've had some fun runs on Imperator but it does feel a bit empty. I'm hoping they DO take it in a different direction, and don't just dump it completely. And thank you for the compliments. I myself have a bad tendency to do "restoration" runs, especially on CK2, but I'm glad Alkaios's story is becoming something a bit more.
As for Jump, was she one of your Courriers? I like how you managed to turn her into a secondary protagonist, especially in a game like HOI4 which sometimes lacks in characters.
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If you need to scratch that itch, I'd highly recommend the Europa Barbarorum 2 mod for Medieval 2 Total War. It's a bit clunky at times, but the atmosphere and passion for the era is there.
Those are nice because they give a clear goal, although it never hurts to branch out.
Yes, Jump actually started as a Lord Humongous style raider in Fallout 3, evolved into a female tribal courier because I wanted to see how the Legion treated a woman joining them, before finally becoming a White Leg when I got a computer capable of running New Vegas and the Honest Hearts race mod. All the pictures of her in this AAR are a recreation of her in-game.
I think what I like about the Fallout mod is that it makes the world much smaller and able to handle more personal stories. It also helps that Fallout is such a character focused game. I figured I needed a more human character than Salt-Upon-Wounds since his personality was already described as a great warrior who is brutal to his opponents; I think she helps the tribe grow beyond being just bad guys, into some sort of grey area at least.
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Part 12: A Meeting in the Desert
A Meeting in the Desert
Albert’s ancient joints screamed out in pain as he sat, totally exhausted by the last two months of running across the wastes of Utah, following Jump and the other scouts. Tribals rushed past, paying him no heed, which suited him just fine. He pulled his journal from his bag, absentmindedly paging through his record of events since the fall of New Nephi. He saw something from the week or so after the battle, chuckling about the mad situation he had found himself in.
He had followed Jump to the southwest and watched her comrades launch a desperate attack on some Tar Walkers that were attempting to push north, cutting off the best of the White Legs’ warriors. In response, Salt had ordered some of his warriors in the west to finally attack, hopefully linking the two forces together.
The scouts’ stalling attack had secured Vault 24, but the situation remained precarious. Salt called off his attack to the east of New Nephi and attempted to push south, isolating the Tar Walker warband from any assistance.
The truly decisive event was Vippnah’s attacks all along the southernmost portion of the front. The Tar Walkers had slowly been drawing forces further and further north, threatening Salt’s breakthrough but leaving the south nearly undefended. The Tar Walkers attacked a lone White Leg warband, pushing them back, but they left themselves badly exposed.
The Tar Walkers had eventually pushed too deep, leaving their flanks exposed as other warbands’ chiefs grew bored of guarding the border and wandered north in search of glory. Vipponah unleashed a fearsome attack, quickly overwhelming the border regions and appearing ready to crush two whole Tar Walker warbands.
These men held out about a week before surrendering, allowing Vipponah’s warriors to rampage across the south almost at will. A few warbands opposed them, but they were quickly driven off. It appeared that some of the Tar Walkers received word of the danger in the south and began to return, desperate to stop the spread of the White Legs. This had bought enough time for Salt to stabilize his front, possibly saving the White Legs from encirclement and defeat.
The scouts managed to cutoff two warbands to the east of New Nephi, leaving them out of supply and in danger. However, other warbands had mustered and attempted to retake the town. Salt marshaled his warriors and saw them off, proving too strong to defeat. Perhaps most decisively, several Tar Walker warbands wandered off once more, leaving their border wide open, which Salt’s warriors quickly exploited.
In a matter of days, all the Tar Walkers in the north were surrounded and in danger of being destroyed. Salt had effectively won the war in the north, and it was just a matter of how long it took to wipe out the isolated Tar Walkers.
However, the Tar Walkers’ king had proven elusive, ambushing White Leg patrols and then disappearing into the wastes. Salt gathered his finest warriors and scouts, determined to capture the fool. After days of tracking him, it appeared Bron was finally cornered. Salt stood before a small cave, surrounded by his loyal followers. Dogs were barking fiercely, eager to get at whatever was inside the cave. Salt called out to the gathered White Legs, “Let loose the mongrels! They shall drive the dog out where he can die like a man!” The warriors let out a cheer as the hounds let loose a howl and were finally released by their handlers, immediately darting into the cave. Gunshots echoed out as several dogs let out yelps of pain, followed by a cacophony of men screaming, dogs growling, and the sound of battle. Several dogs suddenly burst from the cave, fleeing to their handlers.
It became eerily silent, broken only by the faint whimpering of injured dogs. Several men suddenly burst from the cave, piercing the silence with their fearsome battle cry. Bron, towering over his followers, led them directly toward Salt-Upon-Wounds, halting mere paces from the White Legs’ chief. Bron spat at Salt’s feet, fixing him with an expression of pure hate.
Salt’s mask concealed his emotion as he stared down the Tar Walkers’ king. After several moments, Salt chuckled and said, “So, you finally decide to face me after your tribe is dead, scattered to the wind. The fearsome warrior-king Bron has been hiding in a cave, like the animal he is!” Salt’s warriors had formed a circle around Bron and Salt, and they roared with approval at the insult.
“I am Bron, undisputed master of the War Road! I have already killed ten and nine of your tribe, sacrificing them to my gods. You shall make a fine sacrifice too,” the king sneered as he readied his blade. The few Tar Walkers and Salt’s companions stepped back, leaving the two warriors alone. Dozens of eyes bore down on them as total silence fell.
Salt entered a fighting stance and slowly shuffled in a circle, hoping to turn Bron until he faced into the sun. The strategy was sound, but the king was no fool, launching his attack almost immediately. Salt dodged the first strike and caught the second on his power fist, punching Bron in the gut with his left hand. Air rushed from the king, and he quickly fell back, gasping. Salt snarled and unleashed his own attack, striking with both his power fist and bare knuckles. Bron dodged Salt’s blows, but he was quickly running out of space to retreat.
He ducked another of Salt’s blows, rolling to the right. The White Legs’ chief stumbled as he tried to change course, giving Bron an opening to attack. Bron stabbed at Salt’s head, causing the chief to raise his power fist. The king moved his blade to the side, cutting Salt’s forearm deeply.
However, Salt’s arm snapped down, knocking the blade from Bron’s grasp, sending it flying into the dust behind the chief. Salt let out a snarl and advanced on the king, eventually landing a blow on Bron’s left arm, shattering the bone. The king grimaced in pain, momentarily stunned. Salt landed another blow, knocking Bron to the ground.
The king tried to rise, but his broken leg resisted, leaving him a crumpled mess in the dirt. Salt bent down and retrieved Bron’s blade, seemingly admiring its workmanship. He casually returned, almost uninterested in the squirming Bron. Without a second thought, Salt skewered the king, ending his struggles. The remaining Tar Walkers cowered, their spirits broken.
The rest of the tribe soon followed suit, throwing themselves upon Salt’s mercy. Most of the Tar Walkers were enslaved while Salt’s warriors distributed the loot amongst themselves, joyous in another glorious victory. Salt sent an emissary south, into the lands of Caesar, bearing gifts of slaves and various trinkets to show the might of his tribe and its gratitude to Caesar. Salt quietly mocked the Beast he had faced five seasons ago, convinced its prophecies had been wrong. The White Legs had not been consumed by tar, so it had clearly just sought to torment the chief.
Albert had even met Salt-Upon-Wounds, something he hoped to never repeat. The chief had come, demanding he write a note describing Salt-Upon-Wounds’ glorious victory and unmatched strength. The Old One had embellished of course, since he knew the chief could not understand what he wrote. Salt had then taken the note and pinned it to Bron’s decapitated head before ordering a scout to bear it north, to the New Canaanites. One of the Mormons found the gruesome message, bearing it back to the Living Prophet. Salt-Upon-Wounds had declared his message, and it would soon be time for the Prophet to respond…
. However, I managed to get an update in, so I hope you enjoy! Just a note, I haven't declared war on New Canaan yet, but the war is obviously coming.I was a bit disappointed in the Tar Walkers' performance since they legitimately had me worried they might destroy my best warbands in the north. Luckily, they decided to play the AI shuffle and lose on both fronts!
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Something one should never apologise for!
So, White Legs with red hands - the Tar Walkers were hardly peaceniks either, good riddance to them. Looks like we’ll soon see if New Canaan proves a sterner challenge.
In one of the battle screenies I noticed one war band was called ‘Salt-upon-Fries’.
Was that you, or the mod makers having a bit of fun?A question about the mod: is the universe confined to just the former USA (which I kinda assume) or North America, or is the rest of the world out there somewhere?
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Thank you for the update. I wish HoI had done more with the human element. Make the leaders and generals more crucial and allow for their loss by either death, injury or lack of performance.
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Another great update!
How do the other tribes/factions feel about the White Legs' rampage? New Canaan hates them and the Legions are semi-allied, but might others join against Salt in the future if he becomes too powerful?
How do the other tribes/factions feel about the White Legs' rampage? New Canaan hates them and the Legions are semi-allied, but might others join against Salt in the future if he becomes too powerful?
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That was the mod-makers having fun, but I thought it was funny! Nice work noticing, I was curious if anyone would.In one of the battle screenies I noticed one war band was called ‘Salt-upon-Fries’.
Basically all that's known about the rest of the world is it's been nuked and is at least as destroyed as North America. Hypothetically there's a world out there, but nobody's crossing any oceans to find out.
Frankly, we barely know anything about North America based on the games. They've been set in southern California, northern California, Washington D.C., Las Vegas, and Boston, with a handful of side stories scattered around. The mod did a lot of work to flesh out Mexico and Texas, but everything east of the Mississippi River is unplayable wasteland at this point. I believe they're slowly working their way east, but it's hard to create new nations from scratch.
Thanks for the feedback! I honestly feel like the goal of HOI4 was to make it a better multiplayer game and allow people to blow through a campaign quickly. I don't know why else they would try so hard to automate the military.
I've been enjoying the human side of things, but the game just can't quite pull it off. I do enjoy characters though, so I'd not complain if they became more important
The White Legs are on bad terms with all of their neighbors. The Eighties are basically raiders, so the groups don't get along because they fight each other periodically, while most of the neighboring tribes (Sorrows, Dead Horses, Crazy Horns, and Eagle Rock) are loosely aligned with New Canaan. The Crazy Horns are probably the closest, but even they aren't allied yet.
There is a danger that other tribes could get pulled into the war, but we'll have to see how dynamic HOI4 is when focus trees aren't driving everything.
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Part 13: A Frumentarius Comes Among Them
A Frumentarius Comes Among Them
The strange man strode through the White Legs’ camp with purpose, paying no heed to the warriors escorting him. Tribals gawked as he went past, mystified by the device on his face. He glanced their way, causing the children to shriek and run off, disappearing in the confusing mass of tents. The adults averted their eyes, intimidated by the man’s intense stare.
They eventually reached Salt-Upon-Wounds’ tent, ushering the newcomer in. Salt was seated on the ground together with the shaman, engaged in a heated debate, but quickly fell quiet as the new man entered.
“I am a frumentarius in the service of Caesar,” the newcomer boomed, his voice a deep, gravelly bass. “I shall teach you much in the ways of war so long as you carry out Caesar’s will,” he continued.
“Are you saying we do not know war?” Salt challenged. His expression remained impossible to see beneath his helmet, but his body seemed to have tensed up.
“You know ferocity and courage, but there is much to learn. I shall teach you explosives, guns, tactics, and more. All Caesar asks is that you destroy New Canaan for him. He will then consider granting your tribe entry into the Legion, bringing glory and purpose on your people.” Both truth and lie, he thought.
Salt visibly relaxed, seemingly satisfied by the answer. He stood up and exited the tent, waiting for the newcomer to follow him. “If you truly wish to teach, you must learn first,” Salt said as he walked, leading the newcomer to a clearing in the camp. The shaman had followed behind, gathering the tribals spread throughout the camp. Salt called out to two of his warriors and discussed something with them. He returned to the newcomer, bearing a strange weapon.
“Put this on,” Salt said as he handed the gauntlet over. “The mantis gauntlet is one of our most treasured weapons. Each youth must kill a giant mantis in order to become a warrior of the tribe. My warriors will teach you how to use it, and then you may teach us your ways.”
“An honor,” the newcomer said. “I look forward to fighting alongside you.” A lie. He then slid the gauntlet onto his arm and began sparring with a massive White Leg. The fighters circled each other, waiting for an opening to strike. The White Leg saw his chance first, lunging at the frumentarius. The newcomer blocked the blow and counterattacked, starting a series of lightning-quick attacks and counterattacks.
Blood was running from various cuts on each man, pooling on the parched soil, while both would be badly bruised by the next morning. The frumentarius launched another attack, but the White Leg ducked it, catching the frumentarius in the stomach with his shoulder. The White Leg knocked him on his feet and stood victorious over the newcomer. The crowd cheered out in victory, thrilled by the excellent fight they had seen.
“Baika-good fight,” Salt-Upon-Wounds said as he helped the frumentarius to his feet. “You have proven yourself a member of the tribe, and we welcome your teachings.”
“Good,” the frumentarius replied. “We shall start tomorrow.” With that, he left the arena and laid out his bedroll in a secluded part of the camp. As he ate his simple meal, a child watched from behind a rock. The frumentarius pretended to ignore the boy, hoping he would go away. After several minutes, he finally called out, “Come, and talk if you wish. Do not hide.” The boy came and sat across from the newcomer, looking at him curiously.
“What is that?” the boy finally asked, pointing at the frumentarius’ strange staff. It was topped with a golden eagle but appeared a standard staff otherwise.
“It is a flagpole, used for carrying an Old World flag, like the one on my back,” the frumentarius answered. It is a symbol of America that sleeps.” The young boy was confused by the frumentarius’ musings and wandered off, sharing his story with all the other tribals. As the frumentarius finished eating and went to sleep, the tribe had already come up with a name for him: Flag-Bearer.
As the sun rose, Flag-Bearer gathered all the tribe before him and surveyed them. Savages, but not so different from my own tribe, he thought for a moment. He shook his head, dispelling the dark memories of his old tribe and the frumentarius that had come to them, speaking words of friendship.
“The Legion’s greatest strength is its devotion to Caesar. Each warrior is willing to die, and you must be too, if you wish to be strong,” he continued. “Failure is harshly punished, regardless of rank. You shall learn these things, or you shall be crushed, unworthy of joining the Legion.” A truth.
The Flag-Bearer made these lessons every day, determined to craft the White Legs into Caesar’s weapon as he had been directed. The tribe proved to be quick learners, eager to hone their warfighting. He even began teaching basic tactics, things that could decimate other tribes but would not best a real military.
The Flag-Bearer thought about his true purpose each night, troubled by history’s echoes. A frumentarius coming to a tribe, claiming to respect them, bearing promises of friendship. Honing the tribe into a weapon, a tool of Caesar’s will. The victories, the glorious celebrations. The betrayal, inevitable as the sun’s rise.
Despite his troubled mind, Flag-Bearer continued to train the White Legs, earning their respect. A legionary had arrived after several months, bearing bad news. Caesar had become obsessed with the Old World Wall, said it was his Rubicon and the city of lights, New Vegas, would be his Rome. He had sent his legionaries against the Wall, but it was the Legion’s first defeat, a setback to the inevitable conquest of the west. The Bear, New California Republic, had proven stronger than Caesar thought, humbling the Malpais Legate, Caesar’s right hand.
Flag-Bearer had told the truth when he said failure was harshly punished. The Malpais Legate was coated in pitch, lit on fire, and thrown into the Grand Canyon. That should have been the end of it, but rumors soon spread claiming he had survived and walked the wastes as the Burned Man. Caesar couldn’t let the Legate live, disproving his infallibility and strength. The Flag-Bearer was now tasked with killing him, and the White Legs would be his tool…
Bishop Mordecai was sitting on a chair outside his church in New Canaan, preparing his sermon for Sunday. The old man’s church was nowhere near as nice as New Jerusalem’s, but he was proud of what he had built in this community. The settlement had been the New Canaanites only home until Jeremiah Rigdon, the Living Prophet, claimed to see visions of glory and led settlers south. They had founded New Jerusalem and attained many glories, straying from the path in Mordecai’s opinion. The few hundred remaining citizens were all good, honest folks that worked hard and cared for their neighbors. They even carried Mordecai around as his infirm body failed him.
He glanced up, noticing a silhouette approaching town. The old man couldn’t move, so he just waited, glancing up occasionally. As the stranger got closer, he saw that he was limping, dusty from the road, and covered in bandages. The bishop finally called out, getting a handful of townsfolk to come help the stranger. Several fetched food and drink while the others carried him into the church. Once the stranger had been tended to, two men carried Mordecai into the church so he could meet the strange traveler.
The man’s back was turned to Mordecai, but he turned at the sound of the door. “Joshua!” Mordecai called out as recognition dawned. “He has returned home! Slaughter the fatted calf, gather the townsfolk! Joshua has returned to us!” the bishop shouted out to the townsfolk.
Joshua was obviously shaken up, his voice haunted by guilt as he began to admit his crimes, but Mordecai silenced him. One of the townsfolk was outraged at this, protesting, “We have been faithful to the Lord and never receive anything, yet you celebrate the Malpais Legate, a murderer?!”
“I celebrate because Joshua was dead and yet lives now, he was lost and is found.” With that, New Canaan celebrated the return of one of its lost flock, unaware of the danger Joshua, the Burned Man, had accidentally put them in…
Note: I've now introduced two of the coolest/most popular characters in Fallout New Vegas! The Flag-Bearer is better known as Ulysses, but I will be using Flag-Bearer, the name the White Legs gave him. Joshua Graham is a former member of Caesar's Legion that has returned to his people after a literal rebirth by fire. I hope my initial characterization of them has proven effective since they're both so iconic. Some of Graham's quotes have actually made it into the real world in Facebook posts, tattoos, etc. despite being a video game character! I'm not sure how much of their in-game lines I will use, probably depending on what fits or doesn't, but I must acknowledge much better writers than me have done the bulk of the work on these characters.
Flag-Bearer/Ulysses can be a frustrating character when players first meet him since he talks weirdly and has strange ideas. I inserted his interaction with the child as a taste of his strangeness while his internal monologue should provide food for thought. He should come off as mysterious and conflicted, so hopefully it's working!
We are drawing closer to war with New Canaan, but I keep getting distracted by interesting characters. I honestly thank they're more fun than HOI4's combat, so I hope you'll humor me.
Finally, thank you so much to @Midnite Duke for your high praise of this AAR in the ACA! I really appreciate it and hope to keep impressing.
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These character are what make this AAR great! As long as you're not burnt out on having to write multiple characters, keep doing what you're doing.
Was the parallel between Joshua's return and the Parable of the Prodigal Son your doing or Bethesda's?
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It certainly is.
Of course we will.
Another interesting episode. Building it up nicely for the next big war.
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What lovely new characters you have introduced. It would sure be a shame if some more tragic events came along and messed up their lives more than they already have been.
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War is the game but the people are the stars. You are welcome. Thank you for the update
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I've been having a great time writing them, and I'm trying to slowly tie things together. I still haven't figured out a great way to write up HOI4's combat, so the characters help me create a coherent story.
I made it more explicit, but from what I recall, Joshua Graham describes being thrown down the Grand Canyon as his second baptism. His homecoming isn't discussed much in-game beyond that they welcomed him back, so I made the obvious parallel to the Prodigal Son explicit.
Well that's good to hear! Even people that play Fallout New Vegas struggle to interpret Flag-Bearer, so he's just a strange guy.
I think I'm going to get sidetracked from the big war another update or two. A couple events arose (one expected, the other not), and I think they deserve their own write-up.Of course we will.
Another interesting episode. Building it up nicely for the next big war.
That really would be a tragedy, and especially if it all comes back to our favorite tribals in the end!
I'm glad you're enjoying it!
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Ah, the Flag-bearer and the Burned Man, two of the characters I find most fascinating in Fallout lore in part because of what they share in common -- both seeking meaning in a world that has seemingly cast them adrift.
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Hopefully I can do them justice! The nice thing with the Flag-Bearer is we'll get to see most of the character development we're only told about in game.
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Part 14: The Raid on Spanish Fork
The Raid on Spanish Fork
“I have gift,” Jump haltingly pronounced, obviously struggling with her In-glisch. She held the gift out, staring expectantly at Albert.
The Old One hesitated for a moment, uncertain what to make of this ‘gift’. It was pieced together from various scraps of the Old World: a pipe, railroad spikes, bungee cords, and wire. It was adorned with feathers and paint, showing that some effort had gone into it.
“It a tomahawk,” Jump offered, insistently offering the weapon to Albert.
“I’m honored,” Albert finally answered. Jump seemed satisfied as she broke out into a smile. “Where did you get this from? It’s very ‘interesting’,” Albert asked, still uncertain of this gift.
“I find parts scavenging. I find blades in ground. Why old people bury blades in ground?" Jump asked.
Albert shook his head, momentarily confused. He found this happened a lot, especially now that they could communicate more easily; so many things that made perfect sense to him meant nothing to the scout. The Old World must be a mystery to her, totally unhinged from her life experiences.
He glanced at the tomahawk, suddenly realizing what she meant: the railroad spikes! How to explain that though? She didn’t understand trains, and he didn’t have time to explain them. He finally settled on a white lie, something he had to do far too often. “We buried them there, hoping they would grow into many. That did not happen, but our wise children have found them and put them to good use,” Albert finished, smiling as he praised Jump.
“Baika-good!” she exclaimed as her face lit up, pleased with the flattery. Suddenly Echo called out to her in their native tongue, waving from across the camp. Jump said something in reply and turned back to Albert. “I go now, follow Flag-Bearer north.”
“Good luck, child. Be careful,” Albert said, waving to her as she ran off to join the other scouts. He hated every time she left, concerned she might not come back again. No one else had been interested in learning from him, and he did not feel he could afford to lose her. He looked down at the tomahawk again, uncertain what to make of it. A lot of thought had gone into it, even if the components were crude. It probably took Jump days to scrounge all the bits and piece them together. He didn’t even want to know where she had found paint. He tucked the weapon into his belt and watched the scouts fade away, disappearing far to the north.
The scouts traveled at an efficient lope, faster than almost anything in the wastes, but Flag-Bearer kept pace without complaint. By nightfall, they were nearing the northern extent of the White Legs’ territory, causing them to make camp for the night. The scouts ate salted foods to avoid cook-fires that might alert the New Canaanites while Flag-Bearer went among them, setting watches so the rest could sleep. The plan was to set out several hours before dawn, arriving at the arms bunker and surprising the New Canaanites.
Flag-Bearer had decided the White Legs needed more guns if they were ever going to threaten New Canaan, and he knew many caches were spread throughout Utah. He had already led the tribals to many of them, gathering a handful of guns. The greatest cache was in Spanish Fork, a sleepy New Canaanite settlement that had rebuilt the Pre-War town.
Flag-Bearer gathered the scouts, and they quickly broke camp in the murky pre-dawn light. It was another hard day pushing through the scrubland, but they soon reached their destination without incident. A few New Canaanites had been encountered, but the tribals handled them quickly. No one would know they were coming.
Flag-Bearer hid within a clump of rocks, carefully observing the armory that stood before them. The original structure had largely been blasted away, but a few bricks stood here and there. He glanced down at the worn photograph he had found many years ago, imagining what it must have looked like in better days.
The New Canaanites had built on top of it, adding scrap metal walls and sandbags to the jagged bricks of the Old World, producing a serviceable fortress on top of the arms bunker. There was only one entrance, marked by a wooden guard post on the left and a machine gun emplaced in a pile of sandbags on the right. It seemed like a fearsome defense, but the guards were lax. Both were chatting about something, oblivious to the world around them.
Two good marksmen could take them out, allowing the rest of the tribe to rush in and take the fort by force. A handful would guard the gate, keep out any curious townsfolk while the rest got into the guns, the treasure of the Old World hidden below.
He went back to the scouts and asked for two good shots. Most of the tribals were armed with spears, clubs, machetes, gauntlets, and other crude weapons, but three stepped forward. Each of them had a rifle and insisted they were good shots. It would have to do.
Jump sat several paces back from the other two riflemen crouched in the rocks, ready to fire if either of them missed. She was probably the best shot among the scouts, having practiced for quite some time. The other two each took a guard, leaving her as the failsafe. The rest of the war party had crept forward as far as they dared, ready to storm the fort.
Flag-Bearer motioned to the shooters, indicating he was ready. A few moments later, the two rifles barked out, instantly felling one of the guards. The other took a bullet in the arm, not enough to stop him. Time seemed to slow down for Jump, giving her a chance to raise her rifle even as the guard fled. Her heart seemed to pound in her ears, punctuating each step he took. Boom. He looked back, terrified. Boom. She shouldered her rifle. Boom. She squeezed the trigger. Boom. The shot was true, hitting the guard square in the back. He fell, lifeless, as the other tribals charged forward, entering the fort.
Jump and the other shooters trailed after their companions, nervously watching for any reaction from the sleepy town of Spanish Fork. People came spilling out of their homes, shocked by the sounds of gunfire. A few were armed, but none seemed certain of what had happened. Before anyone noticed, Jump and her companions had slipped into the guard post, taking up positions. Jump stood watch just behind the guard post while the other two took cover in the sandbags, as the man cautiously raised the machine gun to his shoulder.
As Flag-Bearer and the tribals entered the courtyard, a few guards stumbled out of the barracks, woken by the gunshots. Flag-Bearer ordered a group of tribals to handle them, letting loose a war cry as they charged the terrified, half-awake Mormons. The sounds of slaughter echoed through the courtyard.
The remainder of the group made for the main building, a brick structure that housed the treasure below. A White Leg threw the door open and charged in, catching the sentry eating at a table. The rest of the tribe spilled in, disappointed by what they saw. The room was dingy at best, with a smooth stone floor covered by a worn rug. To the left was a small table with the guard’s food and drink still steaming, his lifeless body knocked to the floor, while the right featured a desk covered in papers. A gun-rack dominated the far wall, featuring a handful of battered rifles and shotguns.
“Deiyape!” a tribal called out as he saw the worn guns. “This is useless!” Flag-Bearer said nothing as he motioned the tribals away from the center of the room. Without a word, he pulled the rug back, revealing a safe door that sealed the true bunker. A tribal rummaged through the pockets of the sentry while Flag-Bearer looked through the papers, eventually finding the code. He sat on his haunches and worked the dial. A few moments later, he heaved the door open, revealing a ladder down to the riches within. The tribals greedily rushed forward, into the yawning darkness of the National Guard Armory.
Outside, Jump saw the townsfolk had finally gotten organized and were marching toward the fort. They were lightly armed, but there were at least two dozen, enough to overwhelm the three White Legs. The machine gun suddenly let off a burst, scattering the townsfolk. A few had been hit, falling where they stood and crying out for help, but most of the burst had gone high. Jump stayed hidden, firing only at townsfolk that got too brave for their own good. The machine gunner continued to let off a few bursts, keeping the crowd dispersed. However, they were steadily crawling forward and returning fire.
A man rushed forward, having slipped around to the machine gunner’s left. Jump saw only a blur of motion as she swiveled and fired, felling another man. Several bullets whistled over Jump’s head, forcing her to crawl further back into the fort, leaving the machine gunner even more exposed. The townsfolk seemed to realize their strength and pressed forward more urgently. Jump could do nothing but hide and let off unaimed shots as lead flew around her. The machine gun began to chatter continuously, no longer the bursts of before. However, it soon clicked empty, signaling the spirits were gone.
The townsfolk surged forward at the distinctive sound, getting within twenty paces of the entrance. Jump readied herself for melee, sending a heartfelt prayer to the gods. As she opened her eyes, she saw dozens of scouts surge forward, armed with strange guns. “Deyai-yoo!” they cried, giving the townsfolk pause. A moment later, they opened fire, cutting the townsfolk down like wheat before the scythe.
The guns echoed in Jump’s ears, sounding like a storm of drums banging from every direction. They finally fell silent, leaving a swathe of destruction before them. Most of the townsfolk had fallen in the hail of lead, giving the White Legs cause to celebrate. As Jump looked back into the courtyard, she saw White Legs stacking crate upon crate, filled with the new guns which the White Legs took to calling storm drums.
Echo approached her, beaming as he showed off his new weapon. “The spirits of my storm drum are strong!” he exclaimed. “The Mormons were like brahmin, helpless against me! Flag-Bearer promises there are many guns, enough to destroy the New Canaanites!” At the mention of his name, Flag-Bearer joined them. Echo boasted of Flag-Bearer’s cleverness in finding the guns, but the frumentarius’ mind seemed elsewhere. Jump glanced over, seeing his eyes were focused on the charnel house before the fort. He looked back to the two tribals, tears forming in his eyes…
Note: Not a ton of plot advancement, but I thought this was a really cool scene to write and will hopefully provide some justification for what happens next. Let me know what you think, but I thought this was my best battle scene so far!
The discussion of the tomahawk and the railroad spikes is heavily inspired by A Canticle for Leibowitz (an extremely interesting post-apoc book), wherein a character wonders why/how people buried metal within stone (rebar within concrete). I enjoy thinking about things that make total sense to us but would be a mystery in the future.
I'm hoping to get the next update out on schedule, but I'm not entirely satisfied with what I've written and might have to push it back. We'll see how much progress I make rewriting it, but I just wanted to give a head's up.
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