"Hey, you're the dog fucker, right?"The wastelander who said it was scarred, muscular, and not a pretty man. A leather harness supported various bits of salvaged armor and a backpack and pouches held supplies.Madeline scowled at him, turned, and left the bar. There was only one bar in Novac and it was an open air thing set up by a traveling merchant and now maintained by the old lady who ran the town junkyard.When she rose to leave there as a slither of scales. Rattles the nightstalker uncurled

The painful stab of fangs into her thigh was the first indication the wastelander had that she was in trouble."What the hell?" Carline's pistol filled her hand and she looked in all directions. There was no sign of an attacker, just rocks, desert foliage, and the towers of Helios One in the distance.Maybe she stepped on a board with nails in it, or a bit of cactus, and it snapped up against her leg? There was no board in sight, though. Just two bleeding punctures in her vault suit and, worrying

It was a green and pleasant land, before the War. After, it was an irradiated hellscape for decades. Now, two hundred years later, the wasteland of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, known now just as the Commonwealth, had finally begun to recover. The streams were still tainted with runoff from destroyed nuclear power plants, rad storms blew in from the craters of the Glowing Sea from time to time, but all was not lost. While the wildlife and plants were twisted by mutation, they'd survived. T

Madeline was a typical wastelander. Though barely past twenty her face was deeply tanned, her auburn hair faded from the desert sun to near blond, and her physique wiry and strong. She made a living scavenging the wasteland and collecting bounties, and you don't survive long at that without being strong inside and out. She had plenty of scars to prove it. With a hunting rifle slung over her shoulder and a pistol on each hip she could pass for any of a dozen wanderer women who passed through Sloa

Geckos. Of all the things to get you killed, it was geckos. Not Deathclaws, not Cazadors, not a band of well equipped Fiends. Geckos.The big bipedal lizards can be dangerous, especially the fire-breathing ones, but you were comfortably stretched out on a ridge sniping them in perfect safety with your silenced rifle. You kill your third gecko of the day, chuckling at the way the remaining lizards run around trying to figure out why their companions keep dropping dead, and then it happens. Your fi

Mayor Misha
By Strega
 
The alliance of settlements had no official name. Each town did: Marshall, Two-Shot, Gravelburg by the quarry and Hook Harbor. And largest of them all Ironville, built into the partly repaired ruin of a prewar Corvega factory. Collectively, though, the allied towns didn't have a name. Unofficially, the whole area was called Bear Town, or just Bearton. This was for a good reason.
 
One rainy Tuesday a caravan came down the old north road, which was cracked a

Carlton
#6
By
Strega
Carlton
stretched, tugged his vault suit up where it always sagged, and
smiled. He'd been training for a month now and the Supervisor was
finally letting him go outside.
“We
send one person out a month,” the Overseer said. “As you know,
this Vault is designed to clone its inhabitants. Don't worry,
there's only one of you: if you don't come back or if we find out
you've died, only then will we decant another. Simpson and Harkness
are still sending in reports from Di