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== Plans == | == Plans == | ||
;Les informations suivantes n'ont pas encore de version française. | ;Les informations suivantes n'ont pas encore de version française. | ||
* Plan: T-51 Power Armor Brotherhood Paladin Paint | * Plan: T-51 Power Armor Brotherhood Paladin Paint | ||
* Plan: T-51 Power Armor Brotherhood Knight Paint | * Plan: T-51 Power Armor Brotherhood Knight Paint | ||
* Plan: Union 42 Banners | * Plan: Union 42 Banners | ||
* Plan: Gulper Head | * Plan: Gulper Head | ||
* Plan: Gulper Rug | |||
==Notes== | ==Notes== | ||
| Ligne 198 : | Ligne 197 : | ||
Now that I think about it, it did kind of look like my old bunkmate. Fucked up face and everything. | Now that I think about it, it did kind of look like my old bunkmate. Fucked up face and everything. | ||
}} | }} | ||
*My Noose | |||
{{Transcription|texte= | |||
A few days ago I fell through the ground. | |||
Everything deteriorated so fast. The streets emptied. Buildings crumbled. There was a stench in the air, like cleaning chemicals and sulfur. I woke up choking on it, in the middle of an earthquake. Then I fell back through my bed like you do in nightmares. Except it was real, and I landed in a pool of acid. | |||
Clawed my way out like I was on fire. Everything's been dark since then. It got in my eyes. | |||
I've been going in circles. I tried to climb the walls. I wonder how close I got to the top. If it was only one more handhold away, or fifty... | |||
Now I'm hearing things. Screams that sound human, but not. I'm so thirsty. Bet you these are my last words. I hope they're legible. | |||
Let it be known that I'm Jaxon Reed, and in life I had a best friend named Marley. See you soon, buddy. I'm sorry I couldn't save you. | |||
}} | |||
*Ava's Journal #1 | |||
{{Transcription|texte= | {{Transcription|texte= | ||
Once more I've been led to salvation. | |||
So many I had to leave behind. So many innocent lives laid to waste by the misguided. This city crumbles all around me. Yet it is still my home. | |||
And the people left behind are my neighbors. I will stay, and guide whom I can to the same salvation I was granted. | |||
I pray for the strength I need to guide them. If I cannot find it within my own aging body, let me work through my words, through my hope. There are those I may still influence. I pray they are sent along my path. | |||
}} | }} | ||
*Safe Haven | |||
{{Transcription|texte= | |||
Dear Mason, | |||
If you can make it through the Trench, safe haven can be found at the Sanctum. Look for the cathedral. This is one of the few places we're still safe from the Fanatics. | |||
Hope to see you soon. | |||
Ella | |||
Found this lead to another Union safehouse. Hard to reach, but the location itself is poorly guarded and contains a good store of food and medical supplies. Maybe three dozen survivors in residence. Please advise. -D | |||
}} | |||
*Bad Omens | |||
{{Transcription|texte= | {{Transcription|texte= | ||
Things remain peaceful here, while the chasm surrounding the cathedral grows wider and deeper. Supply runs are becoming more and more dangerous. | |||
An illness is going around. If it weren't for the air it wouldn't be so bad. Olivia almost stopped breathing last night. | |||
It was just after I saw a shadow outside the window. It looked like a person. Maybe it was nothing. We can't afford to have the Fanatics find us now. | |||
I pray our safe haven remains as such, for as long as the Lord will grant us mercy. | |||
}} | }} | ||
*Trogs | |||
{{Transcription|texte= | |||
To the Foreman: | |||
Mia got dragged away last night. I barely managed to shut the gate before she dragged me away with her. | |||
With all due respect, we need more security down here. We're just as vulnerable to the trogs as the prisoners are! The last three people who got assigned with me didn't survive the night. | |||
Ah shit. You're trying to get rid of me, aren't you? | |||
}} | |||
Ava's Journal #2 | |||
{{Transcription|texte= | {{Transcription|texte= | ||
These lost lambs have answered my prayers. A feral child, born in the chasm. A chemist from the factory, driven close to madness after the earth opened up and spilled her own creation upon her. A runaway Fanatic in repentance. | |||
The child and chemist, I offered each of them to share my shelter. On the first day, they wouldn't approach each other. I was surprised on the second day to find them sharing the food they had each scavenged. On day three, they were gone. Two souls who each believed themselves monsters, yet they found humanity in each other. | |||
The Fanatic: he lingers. Always just out of eyesight, taking only what he needs. But among needs, there is more than just the physical. With time, maybe I can teach him. | |||
}} | }} | ||
*Ava's Journal #3 | |||
{{Transcription|texte= | |||
The runaway tracker - for it is no longer right to define him by his past - he lingers still, away from the light. He accepts my gifts now. I can only hope that it means his heart is opening. | |||
He seeks purpose. A new role in this desolate city. But he does not believe himself worthy. | |||
Even if he cannot find it in himself to forgive his past mistakes, he must give himself permission to take a step forward. One step, and then another. Each day brings new light, new challenges, new opportunities. Perhaps one day he will look back and find his past self is but a distant shadow. A healed scar on the inevitable horizon. | |||
}} | |||
*Janitor Note 2 | |||
{{Transcription|texte= | {{Transcription|texte= | ||
Looks like ol' Michael's prayers were answered. They started removing barrels from the warehouse. I have no idea of where they're taking them, but that's not my problem. I have mountains of leaked goo to clean up in the meantime. | |||
}} | |||
*Janitor Note 1 | |||
{{Transcription|texte= | |||
The folks in Manufacturing started storing barrels of something foul in my part of the building. Heard them say it was the leftovers from some experimental drain cleaner? I can never keep track of these "product id" numbers they make everyone use. | |||
This stuff makes my eyes water just being in the room with it. Used to just be I sweep floors and maybe clean up a spill now and then. Now I got to wear a goddamn hazmat suit just to do my job! They better find somewhere else to put this crud, or there's not going to be any floor left for me to sweep. | |||
}} | |||
*Chemist Note | |||
{{Transcription|texte= | |||
I thought I had a lead on a neutralizer for the waste. I worked late to follow it but turned out to just be another dead end. On my way out, I saw a crew in hazmat suits wheeling dozens of barrels to the back. It's no secret that the complex has been neglected by corporate and management for a long time now, but are we really resorting to dumping the waste from 31148 in our own back yard? I'd draft an incident report and send it to corporate, but I have no doubt it'd fall on deaf ears. Maybe my time is better spent drafting my resignation. | |||
}} | |||
*Pitt. Union Railroad Worker Note | |||
{{Transcription|texte= | |||
This is the 5th time this month JP and I have had to do a patch job on a corroded tank car. Whatever it is the Abraxo guys are dumping in, it's tearing through our cars faster than we can patch them. We're also down 3 folks. Said they've gotten sick while working near the stuff. We are not equipped to handle Abraxo's waste, and we're not going to kill ourselves fixing the train cars that THEY trashed with THEIR CHEMICALS. We're having a meeting later today to draft a formal letter of complaint. This has gotten out of hand. | |||
}} | |||
*"Mission Critical" is a joke! | |||
{{Transcription|texte= | |||
We're being expected to pull insane hours to handle this "mission critical" task, but we aren't even given the equipment we need to do our research? We lost another vat to corrosion yesterday, and I had to use a Nuka-Cola bottle in lieu of a graduated cylinder! If they really cared about this neutralizer so bad, maybe they'd bother to give us the most basic tools we need to do our job. This level of mismanagement is inexcusable. I bet the folks at HalluciGen don't have to put up with this nonsense | |||
}} | |||
*Janitor Note 3 | |||
{{Transcription|texte= | |||
As a janitor nobody notices you, so you hear things in passing. Today I heard that Edgar Clemmon is getting the sack. Story got out saying we've apparently been illegally dumping barrels. Guess that explains why I haven't seen a barrel of waste in my warehouse in weeks. Supposedly, corporate will be bringing in a new Director of Operations to "turn things around". If that means finally getting me that new floor buffer I've been begging for, you won't hear me complaining. | |||
}} | }} | ||
== Notes == | == Notes == | ||