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Fallout:Industrial Baron in Caesar's Legion

Living his whole life as a lie, a man rises against his destiny by destroying everything he has ever known, but eager to seek his destiny, he ventures into the dreaded post-apocalyptic wasteland to rebuild from the ashes. Disclaimer: I do not own fallout series Disclaimer II:Some stories will feature topics such as torture, rape, sexism and xenophobia. These topics do not represent me, I only seek to give my view of what is necessary to survive in this type of apocalyptic event Disclaimer III:I don't speak English, I am in the process of learning, so I will make several grammatical mistakes, any help on the lexicon is accepted, I am not a person so deeply versed in the lore of fallout I read the lore a little bit, but the hoi4 mod motivated me to write about it.

Chill_ean_GUY · วิดีโอเกม
เรตติ้งไม่พอ
82 Chs

Incursion to the sundogs

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The punishment imposed on me by Lanius was clear and straightforward: train the new recruits in the use of the new weapons. At first glance, it didn't seem like a severe punishment, but the reality was different. It wasn't just about teaching them how to handle the mortar, load explosive charges, and recognize when something was wrong; it was about instilling in them the discipline necessary to avoid hesitation or mistakes in the heat of battle. The mortar system had been simplified into three parts to facilitate transport and assembly, but even the simplest operation could become a disaster if the men didn't know what they were doing.

The biggest problem wasn't the mechanics of the equipment but the time I had dedicated to developing these weapons, neglecting the proper training of my legionaries. Although many of the wounded from the last campaigns had recovered, I now had a new burden: training a hundred recruits, including those replacing casualties. These new legionaries had been recently recruited from tribes conquered by Caesar, and although physically strong, many didn't have the experience or proper training to survive in the Legion's ranks—I wouldn't allow them to die in vain, as it would be a waste of time and resources to equip them.

Lanius had entrusted me with a clear mission: prepare them to continue his expansion, with the objective of conquering more territories and capturing more slaves. These men, novices in organized warfare and accustomed to tribal skirmishes, needed to learn the brutal efficiency necessary to avoid dying in their first combat in the Legion.

I began the process by forming small groups and assigning my most trusted veterans to lead the recruits in training. They taught them the basics: discipline, teamwork, and, most importantly, the use of the rifle. Previously, ammunition was a scarce resource, but that was no longer a problem. The Vertibird allowed me to travel back to my refuge and bring thousands of rounds of ammunition in a matter of hours. Fuel wasn't an issue either since I had installed the cold fusion generator. However, using the Vertibird still required Lanius's authorization, which meant I couldn't abuse that privilege. I could only do so if I obtained something valuable enough for Lanius to overlook it... once again.

I had considered bringing more power armor for my legionaries, but McKinley, despite all her efforts, had only managed to manufacture five that were fully operational. Instead of allocating them to the legionaries, I was using them for construction tasks. It frustrated me, but it was necessary. The Vault-Tec power armors were significantly increasing the workers' effectiveness, allowing buildings to progress rapidly. As long as the city we were building for the Legion advanced, we could collect the rest of the payment and secure more contracts in the future.

I was observing the recruits during their training when I noticed one of them with his finger on the trigger while carelessly swinging his rifle. "If you're not going to shoot, take your finger off the trigger, idiot," I said in frustration, giving him an open-handed slap on the head. The recruit looked at me surprised but knew my warning was serious.

"If any of you die, let it be by enemy fire, not because some fool fired his weapon at his comrades," I said sternly, looking at the legionaries who were on the ground, aiming their rifles at the targets.

Basic training had to be repeated ad nauseam because I wouldn't risk a stupid accident decimating my ranks before even entering combat. I knew that many of these men weren't yet accustomed to the discipline necessary for handling firearms, but that was my responsibility. If they failed in the field, Lanius wouldn't hesitate to blame me.

My veterans closely supervised the new recruits, correcting mistakes and shouting orders. Every shot had to be precise, every movement measured. These recruits would soon face real situations where a single error could mean the death of more than one legionary.

"Keep the barrel down, don't point at the sky like idiots!" Cato shouted. The recruits responded nervously, adjusting their stances as they followed the instructions while moving in combat formation.

The time to train these legionaries was extremely short, barely a few days between my comings and goings to the refuge. My "escape" from Lanius's direct supervision had put even more pressure on me. I wasn't sure if these men were truly ready, but we were already on the move, entering Sundog territory.

Lanius gathered all the direct officers under his command, his imposing presence as always. The atmosphere in the command tent was tense, the air heavy with the weight of expectations and the history hanging over our heads.

"These profligates should not be underestimated," he began, his severe tone resonating in the tent. "They are fierce, like most of the tribes we've faced in Lord Caesar's conquests, but the Sundogs... they have already defeated us before." Lanius's masked face showed no emotion, but his voice made his determination clear. "I will not tolerate failure. I will not be another Paullus."

Paullus—a name that carried a stigma of defeat. He had been the centurion who led a failed attempt to subdue the Sundogs. Defeated and humiliated, his failure still weighed on the Legion's reputation in these lands.

"I will crush this tribe and leave nothing of their history behind. My predecessor's failure will be erased with the blood of the profligates," Lanius continued, his voice firm and authoritative, like a death sentence handed down from on high.

"You will show them no mercy," he added with calculated cruelty. "They will either kneel before the divinity of Lord Caesar, or I will break their legs myself to make them do so. Failure is not an option for any of us. We will march directly to their main settlements to force them into a decisive battle."

Lanius began distributing orders, his gaze fixed on the officers around him. "Nicodemus, you and your men will guard the southern flank. Ensure that no incursion from the river compromises our position."

The mention of the river made me think about how complicated the terrain would be. The Sundogs knew the region much better than we did and would use every corner to their advantage, especially the mountains and hills where they ambushed Centurion Paullus.

"Gaius, you and your men will be the vanguard of the entire operation. Use your flying machine to keep us informed about the Sundogs' movements. The frumentarii indicate that the profligates have captured many of our motorized carriages, so we anticipate numerous attacks," Lanius said, his tone severe as always.

Being the vanguard meant being at the point of greatest risk—the first contact with the enemy, the first to suffer ambushes and surprise attacks. But it was an honor I couldn't refuse. I knew that if I carried out my orders perfectly, I could earn more favor with Lanius and be the first to choose the spoils.

The Legate continued, addressing each centurion, delivering clear and precise orders on how to act during our advance. The campaign would be swift and decisive; there was no room for error. My men would have to be ready to move and react to every new report that arrived from the Vertibird.

The meeting ended quickly, and without further delays, the Legion's forces began to move with military precision, entering Sundog territory. My men, like those of other centurions, traveled in motorized carriages, ravaging local villages, killing tribal guards, and capturing those who surrendered or were left unarmed.

Meanwhile, I flew with a select group of five men in the Vertibird, watching from above. Every time we spotted a village or a tribal patrol, we reported their position to the ground forces so they could act. But what worried me most was whether the Sundogs had any improvised anti-aircraft systems. Even though they were tribals, I shouldn't underestimate them. They had already proven in the past that they could be lethal, and any ambush or trap could turn our flight into a deadly snare.

"Stay alert for any signs of movement on the ground!" I shouted over the noise of the engines, while one of my men observed with binoculars from an open hatch.

The desert and rocky landscape sped by beneath us. There were small villages, some already in flames where the legionaries were fulfilling their mission, but we had not yet seen any organized resistance.

"See anything?" I asked the observer as I turned the Vertibird to get a better view of the horizon.

"A lot of dust in the distance; looks like vehicle movement... but they could be ours," he replied.

I turned the Vertibird in the direction indicated by the observer, focusing my gaze on the horizon. A large group of vehicles was advancing rapidly, raising a wall of dust in their wake.

"Those aren't ours," I said firmly. "The force is too large to be just a vanguard group of the Legion. They must be the profligates..."

Without wasting time, I signaled to the radio operator. "Quick, inform our forces! Tell them to prepare for an attack. This isn't a skirmish; it looks like an organized force."

The operator began transmitting immediately, and I continued watching the column of vehicles in the distance. If the Sundogs had managed to organize a force of this size, then they were prepared to present much stronger resistance than we had anticipated.

"They're advancing fast. They might try to flank us or ambush us before we can regroup," I muttered to myself, trying to guess their strategy.

"Drusus, to the machine gun. I'll make a low pass; try to shoot at the tribals," I ordered, quickly turning the Vertibird and beginning to descend toward the enemy force.

The wind whipped the cabin as the roar of the engine intensified with increasing speed. Drusus, already in position at the mounted machine gun, adjusted the controls and prepared to open fire.

"Get ready! We'll be right on top of them in a matter of seconds," I shouted as the Vertibird tilted downward.

The enemy vehicles, although disorganized, continued advancing quickly, but the cloud of dust they raised made them easy to detect. They had no way to hide.

"Now, Drusus, fire!" I ordered, aligning the Vertibird to give him the best attack angle.

The machine gun began to roar, unleashing a rain of bullets toward the vehicles and the men running around. I could see how the shots hit the ground and the Sundogs' carriages; some staggered, and others exploded, sending pieces of metal and bodies into the air.

After executing the attack from the Vertibird, several sharp, loud sounds began to resonate on the fuselage.

"They're firing at us from the ground," I murmured, gripping the controls tightly. The sound of impacts on the armor was unmistakable.

"Stay covered!" I shouted, trying to gain altitude quickly to get us out of the direct line of fire.

Drusus, who remained at the machine gun, tried to locate the shooters, but the speed of the Vertibird and the dust in the air made the task difficult. "They're using long-range rifles!" Drusus shouted. "They don't seem to have anti-tank rifles, but they're aiming well."

"Alright, I'm going to gain altitude," I said as I adjusted the Vertibird's controls, moving us away from the enemy's line of fire. "We're returning to our forces. We've bought enough time for them to prepare for the enemy attack."

The Vertibird's engine roared as we ascended, leaving behind the dust and the danger of enemy fire. Through the window, I could see the Sundogs' vehicles disorganized and scattered after our attack. However, I knew this had only delayed them, not stopped them.

"What are they saying on the radio? Are the legionaries prepared for the arrival of the profligates?" I shouted to the legionary with the radio, adjusting the Vertibird's altitude as I awaited a response.

The legionary, wearing headphones, listened for a few moments before responding. "Reports indicate they are ready, Centurion! Decanus Cato says they are in position and have begun fortifying the defenses. They are awaiting the order to attack."

I nodded, relieved that our aerial attack had bought enough time for the Legion to prepare. "Perfect. Inform them that we'll be descending soon to join the ground forces, and that they should hold out as long as they can."

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