Fallout: Crescent City

So...we're going where, exactly?

It would seem we have quite an adventure on our hands. Good thing I have a decent pair of shoes, because this is going to require a lot of walking. Our friend Sis DrR. Cayman Jack probably didn’t know how far we were going, where we were going, or even really what to look for; other than some slant eyed people gathering en masse and overall looking disgruntled. Which he’d most likely mistake for past customers and, in turn, attempt to sell them some “tonic.” And he’d probably be successful! This guy has a silver tongue like no other. But he also seems like the type who’d sell his own family members as well, if he could get a good enough deal. In a way, he could be the most dangerous traveling companion in our group…

Cayman Jack was able to rope in two others from my town. DR. D and Rocco Ford. Some upstanding sorts that I’ve gotten along with so far, not to say that I haven’t gotten along with the Sir Doctor either. Just a few concerns so far with the little adventure were on. We are, as I’ve heard the saying before, flying blind. But we’ve recently had some luck getting information from some folks here in Crescent City. That gives us some more direction. But I don’t think we have the appropriate supplies now either for our group. I can survive off the Wasteland…but I can’t speak for the others. And one is a damn robot! I have never had a companion like this before! How he (or…she? he? It is just a brain in some goo…) has stayed alive is amazing. And that he hasn’t been taken apart by Brotherhood or Enclave is equally amazing! Smart guy…gal? I’ll go with guy. His speakers sound like a guy. Then there is Ford. He’s probably what an ideal upstanding citizen should be if there ever has been one. Not much else to say about the man. He wears it all on his sleeve, all you have to do is meet him. Wouldn’t want to get into a boxing match with him though…he is quite a large man.

I’m about used to the racism down in these parts now. As much as I can be. What I thought was racism before was people singling out ghouls or super mutants. But down south it is quite different…quite different indeed. Charlotte Mauzy was surprised as could be when I asked if I could live under the same roof for her if I was able to work for her. She had to explain to me how bad things REALLY were down here for me to get an understanding. Poor Mauzy…she’s a good lady. Doesn’t deserve some of the comments she gets. Most folk are kind to here though, since she contributes to the city. But other more “privileged” individuals see themselves above being kind and showing decency for fellow man. But then again…we don’t live in a kind and decent time. The weak get trampled under the boots of the Haves. Those that don’t barely get by. So far, I’ve been getting by. Maybe this little adventure could have some payoffs. Maybe we’ll come across some Vaults that aren’t flooded! Psh…yeah right. And maybe we’ll come across a unicorn too (note to self, if unicorn is witnessed and captured…contract a saddle maker).

But in the few years since being down here I’ve not come across a Vault yet, other than the Crescent City one. There has to be some here, the problem is knowing the signs to find them. Traveling south I only saw 3 or them, 5 total if you include the surrounding area I grew up. Most were abandoned, all had been open for decades or longer. I snuck around a couple as best I could, but typically they had already been ransacked of anything useful. Still interesting to see places like that from the past! Crossing my toes this little quest of ours brings us close to what I’m looking for. Time to do some preparing for the rest of our trip.


557 miles from Belle Chasse to Jacksonville. That’s not that much east!

So...we're going where, exactly?

I should buy a few more supplies…with the money I don’t have. Speaking of, Sir DrR Jack, what kind of compensation are we actually getting for doing this for our asshole mayor?

So...we're going where, exactly?

From Elaine via Courier:

Mr. Romancek,

You’re a regular Hunter S. Thompson! Here’s hoping that gonzo journalism doesn’t get you killed before my readership rises!


In the bottom of the envelope, there’s some Mentats and 20 caps.

So...we're going where, exactly?

Vincent reads the letter, and wonders who this Mr. Thompson character is. He’ll just continue writing how he has been, and hopefully get similar results.

So...we're going where, exactly?

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