Book I: The Stone

(If you wish to see the original beginning, go to ZV Forums; The alternate Adeptus RPG is now at ICS)

Goal: To be the first player to acquire the legendary, yet mysterious stone of supposedly ultimate power. In order to do this, you must type up numerous creative posts relating to your adventure in finding the stone. On the way, you need to gather enough player points to gain access to it. Use your imagination and have fun!

This is pretty simple. Your only restrictions are in the setting. The characters main area for play is in Iron City, New Jersey. The year is 2086, six years after the nuclear warfare now called WWVI. The air across the east coast is completely covered by nuclear radiation, thus making babies deformed, a severely decreased population, and a lack of functional technology.

Simple enough? Then GO!

ACCESSING DATA FILE VF-5T0N3
... ... ...

18 Jul. 2071
Odinium, Planet Valhalla
By Hector Sole

Today I start my data log book in order to keep a record of my research of the "celestial power." The recently launched THOR satellite has recorded information for all matter in the universe. According to theory, the data of the data given must be inaccurate due to the strange proportions of matter to the overall expanse of spacetime. There is one thing that could allow for the balance given by THOR, however. That one thing is an incredible, compact mass of dark energy, barely big enough to hold in one's hand. My team in the Valhallan metropolis Odinium has been researching to find further proof of this dark energy, known to this point as Project L0K1. If we find ourselves lucky enough, we might just be able to find L0K1 itself. We believe the item can allow one the power to possess the natural laws of our universe, giving one supposedly ultimate power. Our research, which started just after THOR's data collection three months ago, has thus far turned up nothing. I will conclude this data entry in hopes something will turn up soon.
... ... ...

2 Aug. 2073
Odinium, Planet Valhalla
By Hector Sole

I have discovered my old log book from over two years ago. The Odinium research team has still turned up nothing regarding L0K1, but we remain persistent. An old human colleague of mine, now living on Earth in the Milky Way Galaxy, believes he can help on the project. I will be departing to the planet alone tomorrow, and I will bring essential research material. If all goes according to plan, the ship should arrive by early Earth year 2081.
... ... ...

3 Aug. 2073
Odinium, Planet Valhalla
By Hector Sole

I am now aboard the ship that will be taking me to Earth for research on L0K1. In a matter of hours, I will be put into a deep eight-year state of unconsciousness. With me, I have brought my hygiene essentials, a couple Valhallan rubber suits (each being dark red and black, of course), my hover board, multi-use sunglasses (for viewing infrared light, night vision, GPS, and blocking UV Rays), emergency kit, lightning pistol (humans can get pretty violent), this log book, a small laptop computer, and an intergalactic translator. I'm stocked up on Cheez-Its, so I should be good. Hopefully, my friend, Timothy, will eb able to help me with the L0K1 research. What a time to be questioning his scientific abilities; I'm about to waste eight years of my life. I will now conclude this entry and hope to Valhalla this isn't a major waste of my life.
... ... ...

6 Feb. 2081
Iron City, New Jersey
By Hector Sole

I am seriously aching with every letter typed, as I have just woken up from an eight-year coma. I probably wouldn't have remembered what I was doing if I hadn't read this log book. Central command on Odinium is aware of my successful arrival. I should probably get my bag and go out now.... I am now somewhere in the Iron City aircraft yard. The area is in terrible condition. There is obviously some sort of bad radiation in the air, most likely from an atom bomb. A bad war has just occurred, and I am very likely to be the only living thing (besides cockroaches) on this side of the country.

Hello, my name is Hector Sole, a Valhallan scientist and leader of the Project L0K1 research group. I am in the middle of a large radiation field on the outskirts of Iron City, NJ. I venture into the city to look for any possible survivors. Literally as soon as I turn the corner around a building I am attacked by a human whose face seems deformed by the radiation. He tries to take my beg, but I am able to pull out my lightning gun and stun him for a few minutes. I have to find Timothy and get away from these rough-looking people. Gangsters seem to be around every corner, and no one seems to notice. It's getting increasingly harder to breathe in this polluted air, and I am thankful for my filtering lungs. Upon arrival at Timothy's, I find a pile of rubble. Beneath the pile is a dead man - Timothy - surrounded by dozens of important-looking papers. Great. What have I gotten myself into?

ACCESSING DATA FILE VF-5T0N3
... ... ... ... ... ...
CONNECTION TERMINATED. RETRYING....
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
ACCESS DENIED. LOGBOOK INACTIVE FOR: 1564 Days

23 Oct. 2086, 10:30 PM
Iron City, NJ

When I first arrived on Earth, things were hectic; I felt too alienated (no pun intended) in this violent, corrupted world. The ship was damaged, but perfectly repairable. The problem was I couldn't find any tools! I'm not very physical, but I can fix anything if you just give me the right tools. I took refuge in an abandoned apartment building on the West side of the city. All my gear was still functioning at 99.9% capability. One day the apartment was invaded by violent hominids calling themselves "High Rollers." Before I was able to use my lightning pistol, I was shot in the knee and down on the ground. The fright itself was enough to knock me out, but I could still feel the extreme pain. I awoke maybe 12 hours later, and found myself on the floor of another apartment building. After another half an hour or so, a man with a small beard and bandanna walked in. He smelled terrible! My scanner identified the scent as cocaine, capable of putting humans into a state of low-functioning thought. The stranger introduced himself as Maconey, who was in command of the small group that invaded my apartment building. He apparently thought I had super power because my skin was Green. Now I know how onehalfap feels when someone tells him he'll be a bad driver. How stereotypical! In hopes he won't kill me, I accepted the invitation to join their gang. Here I am now, almost six years later, sitting at a table playing poker with Frank, Jimbo, and Mickey (they call me Banjo).

Maconey's gone out with the gang lord and a couple others down to the Hell Hole in the downtown district. We own the majority of that territory, but cops always happen to breach the area anyway. We usually have a couple snipers guarding all entrances, just in case. The boss won't be back for another 2 hours-ish, so we've got nothing to do. It's hard to play a genuine game of poker when Jimbo won't stop stuffing aces down his sleeve. As soon as we knew it, it was already 3 PM, and I decided to head out. I jumped on my hover board and headed uptown, which was a fairly neutral territory to the gangs. I looked back and saw the others following me in their hover cycles, so I slowed down a bit and we all went to the Lenon Hotel. Again, we sat in the lobby, bored as heck, so Mickey pulled out some coke. Honestly, I still don't get what all the hype is about with these drugs.

I wanted some action, so I decided to go take sniper duty downtown. After about half an hour of smooth hovering, I was able to get to the Hell Hole. I climbed off a cliff and told Freddy he could go home, so I took the sniper and sat there. Still bored to the point of wanting to rip my brain out, I decided to fire off a couple rounds in the middle of nowhere and pulverize a cactus. That was satisfying- what the heck? I swear I just saw movement in the corner of my eye! I looked over and saw a figure moving towards the abandoned storage house very quickly. I couldn't identify him with all the black apparel, but I knew no one in our gang could get those kind of clothes. I fired straight at the person, but I realized there was no ammo left.

Sh**!

Character: Ryan Blackfire
Location: Iron City, New Jersey
Date: October 23, 2086. 11:36 P.M.

-----As the door crashed down from the frame, I took in the contents of the room in less than a second. Maconey was sitting at a desk, writing a long document by hand. He was wearing a leather jacket over a stained white t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans. His head whirled around at the sound of the crash, and I brought up Litttle Brother, took aim, and fired at his shoulder. The blast of the gun must have deafened him but didn't bother me with my helmet, but the kick of the gun jerked my arm back a good foot or so. I had perfected my marksmanship in years past, and I was firing at extremely close quarters, so the bullet hit its mark. Blood spattered all over the place and Maconey howled in pain. The impact of the bullet had nearly thrown him off his feet, and as he stumbled, I brought my aim low this time, shooting him in the thigh and bringing another bestial scream. The third shot found his right foot, causing him to collapse on the threadbare rug covering the dirty floor.

-----Before he could make enough noise to alert his gang, I covered his mouth with an armored gauntlet. I dug around inside my satchel for a suitable gag, and finding nothing, I ripped off a chunk of the back of his shirt and stuffed it in his mouth. I then tied it in place with another length of the now-ragged shirt. I then pulled a long rope from my satchel and bound his hands and feet and tied him to the large iron bed taking up the majority of the room. As I did this, I thought that this couldn't be his permanent quarters. With the money he had from his illict dealings, he must have better accomodations somewhere else. This might be a temporary office or a place to get away from his gang and conduct his personal business in peace.

-----Once he was sufficiently bound and gagged, I searched him for any weapons or items of value. I found a plasma pistol (an expensive and civilian-prohibited weapon) which he must have scavenged from a cop, as well as a Ziploc bag full of what appeared to be weed, and his wallet in his back pocket. I opened my satchel, stuffed in the plasma pistol, and pulled out a lighter. I opened the wallet and dumped the contents onto the floor. There was nothing except a few hundred dollar bills as well as some loose pocket change and his citizenship license. I was sure he had gotten all of this illegally, so I opened the weed bag and dropped the paper license and bills in. I then flicked the lighter on, dropped it into the baggie, zipped it up, and tossed the bag under the bed, the weed, money, and license being reduced to cinders. His eyes widened as he realized I was incinerating his right to live, his goods, and his cash, but he didn't deserve to live at all, much less profit from selling drugs in what little of a country we have left.

-----As he struggled to unbind himself to at least save the weed, I cast about the room for anything important. I was more interested in addresses of colleagues than money or material goods. The document on the table caught my eye. It struck me as odd that he would be writing by hand instead of using a vocal translator. Unless, I thought, he was trying to leave no record of his message. A vocal translator would record his voice and play it back to the recipient in their chosen language. One of their claims to fame was that they were cheap, so they could be bought en masse, but more importantly, once you hit FINISH RECORDING, there was no erasing what you said. Also, the manufacturers had made them extremely durable, so that they wouldn't break if handled too rough. Maconey must have written an important message. In the event of the cops bursting in and arresting him, he could rip up or burn a paper message much faster than break a vocal translator. Also, almost no one these days could read, so the message would practically be written in code. This must be important, then. It would also explain why he was in this ratty old apartment building; this document must be personal, for his eyes only.

-----At that moment, though, I heard the thundering of feet coming up the stairs. Quickly, I grabbed the paper document from the desk and stuffed it into the satchel. I kept Little Brother out and ready, though, as I went over to the tiny cramped closet in the room and hid inside. I wasn't about to get caught doing my job by a thug or a cop. I pulled the closet doors shut, leaving a crack for me to see through. And I waited.

Hector Sole/Banjo
October 23, 2086, 11:38 PM
Iron City, NJ

This doesn't look good. I reloaded the gun as fast as I could, but saw a heavy-duty plasma cannon on a hill to my right and abandoned the primitive weapon. By the time I got it, the intruder was long gone, butI wasn't prepared to let it go. I want my name to be well-known throughout the High Rollers. I might need some back up, though, considering my lack of doing any violent shootings until now. I grabbeda radio and tried to see if I could get a hold of anyone. Why the f** is a long-range radio here!? Obviously that won't work with theheavy radiation cloud. If I know how much of an idiot Freddy is, I probably wasn't going to find any sort of short-range radio here. I guess I'm going in alone.

I wasn't as scared as one might think. I mean, there's a huge plasma cannon hanging over my right shoulder, while the best that guy had was probably some rifle that he was strange enough to name (*cough*). It would be enough to get through our poor band of soldiers. I ran in through the storage garage in case the invader was still in the hall. I ran up a flight of stairs to the second floor and heard a gunshot nearby, which definitely came from the next floor. I proceeded to run up and checked the hallway before dashing in like a maniac. Just as I looked around, I heard a gunshot from the opposite end of the hall. Now that I know the coast is clear, I dashed in like a maniac and ran to the door of room 39, from which smoke was now rising from the door. I checked the time on my HUD in the glasses: 11:40; the gang lord and his goons must be gone, so Maconey must be the only one being targeted in there. I'm hoping he was able to ward off the intruder.

I walked in and realize my hopes would not be met. Maconey was almost motionless on the floor. Judging by the smell and a very cloudy vision, I'd have to say he burned a LOT of weed, which would explain his lack of motion. Upon further inspection, I found three bullet holes: one on his knee, shoulder, and left foot; along with a wall covered in blood. I stepped out for a movement and got rid of my dessert... and dinner. I walked back in and removed the gag put in his mouth. I could tell he was trying to talk, but he was in too much pain and too high. The bed had caught fire, but I was able to put it out with the sheet. "Where's that one guy... uhhh... the guy in black?" but he was still unable to talk. He wasn't in very good condition, so I took him to the radio tower upstairs and called in the emergency crew. I brought him downstairs and left him in the lobby-type area, then ran back upstairs. I arrived in room 39 approximately 8 minutes later (*cough-enough time for a certain someone to escape from a closet, but that's not my decision-cough*).

As soon as I got in there, I checked under the bed and found a smoldering brown pile of random junk I couldn't identify. I got up and put my hand on the door knob to the closet...

Character: Ryan Blackfire
Location: Iron City, New Jersey
Date: October 23, 2086. 11:41 P.M.

-----I heard motion in the room beyond. I could smell smoke coming from the room, but the filters in my helmet saved me from passing out from a weed overdose. As soon as the intruder walked past the closet, I could tell he wasn't a cop; no amount of radiation could turn someone's skin that green. However, I wasn't about to breathe easy, because he had a plasma cannon laying casually across his shoulders. No one tries to operate plasma weapons unless they know what they're doing, and the cannons were no exception. I held my breath while trying to slap a new chamber into Little Brother as quietly as I could.

-----However, the figure was too busy trying to save Maconey to notice any small amount of noise, and he left the room with Maconey after radioing for help. I knew that if I didn't take my shot and kill Maconey now, I might never get another chance for a long, long time. It had taken me almost a full year to track him to this street, and it was hard going bribing, pleading, and interrogating people to get the information. But I didn't like the look of that plasma cannon, and while I was good, my armor would melt like butter on toast when faced with a few solid plasma bursts. Cursing under my breath, I let him go--for now. I made a silent pact with myself to find out everything I could about this green figure. He definitely wasn't human, and he was almost certainly dangerous. And he was wearing the High Roller's garb, which instantly gave him a place on my hit list.

-----But I would bide my time and wait for a better moment of my choosing. This wasn't a loss; it was a tactical retreat. Once I was sure the figure would be gone for a few minutes, I took my clawed pointer finger and carved a message for him into the drywall: I'll be back. With my warning in place, I ran back to the fire escape and leaped toward the other building. I crashed into the wall, and my clawed fingers dug into the brickwork, anchoring me in place. I climbed up the wall as fast as I could and then leapt from building to building, making sure I wasn't followed the entire time. Yes, I would be back, once I examined Maconey's document and planned my next move. I would need a bit of practice with my English again (French and Spanish were the major languages of the fragments of the U.S.), but I was sure it would yield useful information when translated.

-----Around 2:00 in the morning, I made it back to my fallout shelter on the edges of Iron City. I walked to the reinforced steel blast door and swiped my card key through the slot next to it. The door ground open on hinges that needed to be oiled, and I walked into the decontamination chamber. The door shut behind me as I flicked on the lights and started the decontamination process. After fifteen minutes, The radiation had been scrubbed of my armor and I was able to take it off finally. I opened the second door to the airlock-like chamber and walked out, clean and safe. I then laid my armor out on my metal work table and dumped the contents of the satchel between the legs. I began mantaining all of my equipment, eager to start working on Maconey's document.

11:45 PM
...

I slowly opened the door. I could feel my heart pounding as I pulled the plasma cannon off my shoulder. I was no professional hit man, but I could probably handle it better than any other deformed moron in this Godforsaken city. Looking in the closet, I saw nothing. I sighed in relief, but then noticed something written on the back wall. "I'll be back," it said. What a cliche, I thought, and activated my thermal sensors. Based on the heat signatures, it couldn't have been written more than five minutes ago. I shivered. He was probably in here watching me the whole time. I looked down and found faint footprints. If he just left, they should be hotter, unless he has plated armor. That guy (or girl) could have probably killed me in an instant. I wouldn't doubt that this dark-clad, armored figure was threatened by my cannon. Little did they know I can barely lift this thing. I continued to follow the foot steps.

The prints led to the fire escape and somewhere out in the desert-like outskirts. I wouldn't be able to track the stranger. As if I want to. I'm just going to go ahead and head home, and live my life as normal. In fact, I'm leaving right now so I can sit on the couch and listen to Oswald O. Bourne on the radio. I feel as if I have an obligation, though.... I ran downstairs to check on Maconey. He was still there, and I doubt an emergency crew would arrive anytime soon. I didn't really like the guy, but he's my only chance of survival in this city. I sat there wondering what he could have been talking about with the crime lord. Probably nothing important, otherwise he would have had a voice recorder on his possession.... S***! I ran upstairs and looked in the still smoldering pile of ash. Marijuana, marijuana, wallet, money, marijuana, ID?... marijuana... ... .... There was no voice recorder here. Maybe Maconey was just smoking up here. What an idiot. I ran back down and sat in the lobby, thinking.

As I sat on the torn up chair in the lobby, i looked over at Maconey to check if he was conscious yet. Nope. His life signs were reading normally, though. I sat there for a while.... The only reason I'm even on his side is because I felt threatened. Without the High Rollers, my life seems without purpose. I hardly remember anything from when I arrived from Valhalla. I've pretty much abandoned L0K1, because I'm never getting back home. I felt like crying, but I'm no baby.... ... ... ... dot, dot, dot ... ... ... What's that? Sounds like... sirens! S***! What the f*** am I gonna do! I don't even have a license; those guys are gonna massacre me! I ran over to Maconey and started searching his pockets for his ID, when I remembered it was almost completely burned in the flames under the bed. I'm so dead. The sirens were definitely getting closer, and I could almost guarantee the received my distress signal. I'm so screwed.

Having a strong urge NOT to die, I jumped on my hover board and crashed through a back window into the sand. I kept going and going, and I had left the boss lying in the lobby. I have no idea what I'm going to do. There's no one I can rely on here. I can't go anywhere else, as this is the only "civilization" left for miles. I decided to take the long way through the windy desert to my home in the old apartment in the West Sector. Maconey was probably dead by now, and the Hell Hole is probably a literal Hell Hole at this point, so I don't have anywhere else to go.

I arrived home and looked at the time: 12:06. I ran up to my room and opened the small passage into the storage attic. It was time to get back on track. I'm abandoning everything that ever had to do with the High Rollers. I ripped off my clothes (ladies) and pulled out my old black and red rubber suit. A bit dusty, but cool as ever. All that was left inside was some rubble from my ship, a high-tech laptop, and my logbook. I pulled out the logbook and laptop and went down to Mike's tech shop. Mike and I have become good friends in the past couple of years due to our similar fascination in technology.

"Hey Mike," I said when I got in.

"Hey, what do you need today, Hector?"

"I'm thinking of a major upgrade on my laptop. I thought it would be cool to have some sort of weird combination of my visors, laptop, and logbook. What do you think?"

"Well, I don't have much, but we've accomplished harder tasks before."

We went to the back room. I thought about putting all the software from the other two devices into my sunglasses, but it wasn't big enough. I thought big. A helmet could work, but it would be hard to access software on a laptop with it. I thought for a moment. I tried to turn on the computer at that time, but it wasn't functioning well. Obviously, the radiation was having a bad effect on all of my possessions.

"No problem," said Mike, "we've developed a new material that helps prevent radiation damage. I've seen plenty of people satisfied with it, so I know it works."

"Why haven't I ever heard of it?"

"Well, maybe because it's a bit limited in availability, or maybe you're just stupid."

I didn't doubt him. We pulled out this large black slab and started on the helmet idea. I decided I didn't really need a computer anyway. We began smelting and by 3:00 we had a beautiful piece of technology on our hands. It looked like a lain, black helmet, but the visor was a modern marvel of technology. I had access to GPS and beacon software; I had visors such as the x-ray (ladies) thermal, scan, and hazard detector; and MP3, AAC, and MP$ access with the speakers. I also had a viewing screen to see logbook entries. In order to get logbook entries, a small QWERTY keyboard was installed onto the left arm of my suit. That's legit.

I was basically this walking chink of pure technological awesomeness. I grabbed the plasma cannon and hopped on my hover board. I looked to my right and saw a hot blond with her hair blowing in slow motion. Dramatic music was playing in the background. To my right, a crowd was screaming my name and clapping. Mike walked out, ruining the vision, and yelled, "I believe you owe me $350!"

Character: Ryan Blackfire
Location: Iron City, New Jersey
Date: October 24, 2086. 3:16 A.M.

-----As I climbed into my bed to go to sleep, I thought over what I had just translated.

(Flashback to a few hours ago...)

-----After repairing my armor and gear and checking over all of my weapons, I flicked on my computer which sat on the desk in the corner of my main room. I sat down at the desk, laid Maconey's document down next to the keyboard, and looked at the document. As soon as I tried to read the first sentence, I realized this must have been extremely important. Not only had Maconey created a written document (illegible to most and easily destroyed), but he had effectively written in code. Maconey must have really worried about this document falling into the wrong hands, because he had written it in English.

-----Years and years back, when the U.S. was still a major power of the world, the major language of America had been English. Even now, most people can speak English, but if I remembered correctly, a swell of immigrants from Mexico had severely tipped the lingual scales. Because of all the Spanish-speaking immigrants who outnumbered the English-speaking population, the major language of America had become Spanish. It wasn't long before the government ruled that all schools teach not only English, Math, History, and Science, but also Spanish as a first or second language. Pretty soon, almost the entire country at least had the ability to speak Spanish, and it wasn't long after that more Spanish books were being printed than English.

-----When I was a kid, way back before the Fallout Wars, also called WWVI, I had learned both English and Spanish in school. I had had fairly good grades, but not a lot was written in English by that point, so I didn't really practice that skill too much. But when the warheads started flying a few years back, I remember scrambling to preserve every scrap of knowledge I could. I had stored a lot of old textbooks and important documents in the basement of my shelter, thinking that if things one day got better, then maybe someone would find my little time capsule and figure out what went wrong. Now I was struggling with some of the most basic words, so I dug out an old English-to-Spanish dictionary and started translating the document the hard way. Once I got warmed up and started, though, I was able to get some of it myself. By about 2:45 A.M., this is what I had:

Spread the word through the rest of the ring. Riker and I decided that the next meeting to discuss the object will be on the 26th a few blocks away from our usual spot in the Hellhole. We don't want anyone walking in on us when we discuss our "big plans". Oh, and make sure you keep this quiet, Leonard, or my big green friend will be paying you a visit. We don't want a repeat of last time, do we? And after all the trouble I went through to code this message, it would be a shame for someone to squeal about it. We wouldn't want any unfortunate incidents involving one of our best smugglers.

- Maconey

-----It was obvious what this was. Maconey and one of the others in his drug ring had found out about something important, and they were calling a meeting together to discuss it in detail. I didn't know where there usual spot was, but I would be able to find out in two day's time. I can be quite persuasive when I need to. But something didn't seem right about this. Maconey had gone through so much trouble to keep this meeting a secret, and the ambiguous references to some object were disturbing. I decided I should get some rest and make a plan in the morning. Still, it was a long time before I was able to get any sleep that night.

Dr. Sole
Iron City outskirts, NJ
October 25, 2086
0001 Hours

It's kind of depressing when the only transportation you have is a hover board when it starts to rain. I had 50 miles to go, and, judging by my current rate, I should only have to wipe off my helmet 75 more times before I reached New Athens. Little Athens is considered a large portion of the Iron City metropolis. There, you will find many of the sane residents (if there are any) and a few small businesses. This 20 square mile town is the location of the only observatory remaining in eastern New Jersey.

The observatory was a surprisingly large dome-shaped building resting upon a hill towering above a neat little school. I climbed to the top of the dirt-covered hill and discovered a small patch of green grass, thinking to myself, "This hill alone represents all the good left in the United States of Amerasia." I walked into the observatory, which was missing a door, and saw a few broken, primitive machines. Technically primitive, as they were most likely made in the 40s, but you wouldn't find anything more advanced anywhere else in the Green Zone, as we call East USA. I walked up to the massive telescope and peered through the lens. There was the constellation Obama, but with a huge crack through it. One of the glass disks was broken, and it needed a replacement. Sadly, I had nowhere to find one, so I left it alone for a while.

I set my board, helmet, and cannon down in a corner and fell asleep in a nearby chair. My HUD displayed the time 300 hours. I needed rest, or I would probably die (that's almost a literal statement). As I was just about to shut my eyes, a cool breeze rolled in through the doorway and made me jump. This was going to be a long night....

In conclusion:

banjo killed ramen and took the stone to destroy the universe and create himself a giant, fancy mansion.

WHEEE!