- "A pit stop in the gr-ooviest drop!"
- ―Town Gas Station Jingle
|Establishment:||December 6th, 1772|
|Notable events:||October 23rd, 2077 (Great War)
March 4th, 2160 (Lentonville Riots)
Lentonville is a small town in Virginia, now standing as a very rough-and-tumble locale in the most barren areas of the state. Originally a hamlet founded by some of the first colonial settlers on the shores of the soon-to-be United States of America, Lentonville is now one of many gutted towns in the Virginia wastes, ravaged quite badly by the after-effects of the Great War, eking out an existence and source of income on subsistence farming and scavenging. Whilst a relatively unremarkable locale, famous only in the pre-war world for it's close links to the automotive industry and it's historical links to the American Revolutionary War, with a largely pre-war suburban setting reduced to aged and rusting ranch-style homes and burnt out Chryslus hulks, the town stands as one of the few safe places, at least in comparison to most other areas on the East Coast, that offers bedraggled settlers a place to at the very least survive and traders a safe pit-stop; the town's historic relationship with the automobile and robotics industry and revolutionary ideas and ideals of utopia has left a deep impression om the town - and given risen to some of the more active threats to it.
The town's origins can be traced far back to the 18th Century; specifically, early November through to early November, 1772. Originally founded by settlers arriving from Britain looking to escape both crushing economic conditions back home and follow an idealistic vision of their future across the Atlantic, the town served as a boiling pot for revolutionary ideals and ideas. Despite being governed by British magistrates, the town held local meetings to from their own government; this led to crackdowns by these aforementioned magistrates, furthering anti-imperial sentiment in the town. The town, though later host in 1774 to a particularly large gathering of British fusiliers, would remain a place of idealistic visions of a free country right up to 1775; when the American Revolutionary War began in earnest. Numerous citizens from the town escaped to aid George Washington's army; right under the noses of the local British garrison now declaring martial law. A mass-exodus of townsmen, young and old, all rushing to serve in the Continental Army would serve as an inspirational story of patriotic zeal and fervour for the years to come after the Revolutionary War, but for the immediate time would be forgotten. The town itself saw little in the way of fighting, save for the odd protests over shortage of food and marches in support of the foundation of a new, democratic republic. The war eventually ground down in 1781 and, with the signing of the Treaty of Paris in 1783, the war had effectively ended; the garrison of fusiliers in the town, the much hated symbol of British oppression throughout the war, either left with the rest of British forces or remained as members of the town and state's mismatched and mismanaged militia groups, at least until the formation in 1796 of the Continental Army.
The end of the 18th Century and the beginning of the 19th saw a growth in the town's size, both in terms of the immediate land covered by buildings, fields and gardens and population. The town itself served as a powder-keg of explosive idealism and utopian thinking, with many even criticising the nation that many of them had fought to set up as being too close to the old ways of the British Empire. Nevertheless, their loyalty to the new United States of America was certainly proved in the War of 1812, where once again many of the townsmen set off to fight for their country; though this time with murmurs of dissent against a newly formed officer class, under which the many poor and less-well-off citizenry fought, with many regarding this officer class as snobbish and arrogant and almost akin to the British crown's officer corps; an observation that led to the formation of the local insult against officer's as being "a little too British". Following the war's end, many returned further disillusioned by their country; some, old enough to remember the revolution, felt that they had been betrayed by their country's leaders. This sentiment became a very strong and prevailing sentiment as the 19th century went on, up to the point where many outright resented ongoing political change in the United States, and showed bitter hatred for those who did not conform to the town's overwhelming 'pro-liberty' stances; those who regarded slavery as abhorrent were particularly targeted. This would ultimately culminate in vandalism of businesses of abolitionists and attacks on anti-slavery campaigners; many were outright ostracised from the community, with the years 1849 to 1855 being a particularly violent period in the town's history, with riots and looting aimed at businesses and property owned by free slaves, abolitionists and those suspected of harbouring anti-slavery viewpoints amongst those most targeted. The town's ideological gene-pool shrank to the generally accepted view that slavery was necessary and even kind; that the increasingly demanding federal government was akin to a dictatorship and that secession was an increasingly obvious means of retaining their independence from this tyranny. Thus, in 1861 with the formation of the Confederacy and the acceptance of Virginia into it, the majority of the town's populace celebrated the start of what they felt was a war of liberation from tyranny; a rebirth of what they felt that the United States had been founded to represent in the first place. Many of the town's men went off to fight, believing the war would be quickly won; they were to be disappointed.
Four years of bitter conflict ensued, with many of the town's men falling in the war; with the buckling of the Confederacy and the Union's march South, the town was inevitably occupied; though not before being looted by vengeful Union troops. Many residents bemoaned this fact, ironically ignoring their own pre-war actions, and resented the presence of these troops; however, many residents who had left prior to the war returned with new political sentiments, accompanied by new arrivals - and in great number, too. By the war's end, in fact, many Union troops had decided to settle down in the town; on the other side, former residents with hatred of the US government became recluses in their own town or moved away for greener pastures; mostly to places further South, with some ending up in towns like Laramie Point or Ewing Bay in places as far-flung as Louisiana. The defeat of the Confederacy by 1865 very much sealed the town's fate; for the next fifteen years, the town would remain under the watchful eye of a relatively welcome garrison of troops. The few original residents who remained would become ever more bitter and isolated, whilst new arrivals would branch out and set their roots down in the town. As the 1800s rolled on, the town became relatively pleasant, if forgettable, place to raise a family; the odd factory raised itself out of the ground, though the town remained a largely rural idyll for the rest of the century. It was a pleasant enough locale to draw the interest of farmers looking to settle in places more civilised and less dangerous than the west, and arable enough to ensure their economic survival. As the turn of the century came closer and closer, the town's gradual switch from agriculture to industry picked up steam; pun intended. Rail-yards, factories, mills and other staples of industry spread themselves across a rapidly urbanising Lentonville; still, many in the town relied economically on agriculture as their main source of income and employment. This was very much the case by the time that the First World War began in 1914; the town's railway had only just begun running regular passenger service. However, one new arrival in the town had ensured a match made in heaven for the later decades; although small, the town's first automotive works had been founded a year earlier, selling hand-crafted automobiles to a public then sceptical of the value of owning such a crude mode of transport compared to the more common Horse.With the US entering the then furious fighting in Europe in 1917, many of the town's residents remained; the town, they argued, had seen enough fighting to last a millennia. Instead, the workers remained in the factories, churning out weapon after weapon; from rifles, to artillery pieces. The first factories to dedicate themselves to weapons manufacturing opened later in the early quarter of 1918; by which point, the war had driven very much in the favour of the Allies. With the inevitable end of the war, the town's industry came to be the dominant economic driving force; it was quite clear that industry had overtaken agriculture in the town, with the only farms being outside the town. Fourteen factories now stood with the odd, smaller family run-and-owned workshop or two dotting the highstreets. As the 1920s began, the town saw, as with many others, an economic boom; music halls saw regular attendance and new cinemas brought the magic of the movies to the town. The first visible social changes were the appearance of shorter skirts and fedoras; worn by the newly emerging flappers and dappers, the bright-young-things who, emerging from the quagmire of war and relative poverty, came to symbolise a bright young future for the optimists and the collapse of morals to the pessimists. This positive economic change, however, was sadly short-lived; with the Wall Street Crash of 1929, the stock-market collapsed and many businesses went under; including numerous factories in the town. This disaster was hard-hitting indeed; only five factories now remained open and able to turn a profit; many of the workshops had also closed. All of the industry that had become the town's economic backbone had collapsed; save for that of the newly emerging motorcar. Sensible investment prior to the crash by those in town with the foresight to see that the motorcar was coming into it's own, saw three of the five remaining factories purchased and re-fitted; gone was the production of sewing machines, phonographs and other trinkets; now, they were refitted with machinery taken from the gutted, empty factories re-purposed to manufacture motor vehicles on a huge scale. 1931 saw the beginning of partnerships with motor manufacturers from across the country to produce bodies, engines and other components within the town and the revival, at least somewhat, of the town's industry; still, many remained in poverty brought on by the sudden collapse. For these desperate people, moving to the cities seemed the only hope they had; this was not necessarily bad for the entrepreneurs at the head of this new industrial revival. The properties they abandoned were bought up, demolished and the land on which they stood was sold into real-estate; a strange decision, given that many at the time were financially ruined and likely wouldn't be able to afford such fancy and modern housing, but these entrepreneurs were again using their acute foresight to look ahead; they knew what they wanted to do. Housing, built on land freed up by the latest exodus of residents, ensured that worker housing would not be a problem; at least, not until the real-estate market took off again. Even the land occupied by now abandoned factories was purchased; some of these old buildings were demolished to yet again make way for housing and retail, whilst others were kept around so as to be used at a later date. These entrepreneurs, residing in Chicago and New York, saw the town as little more than an oversized game-board. It was their little fiefdom, to rule and manage. By the end of the 1930s, the town's soon-to-be love-affair with the automobile industry had been secured.
With the beginning of the Second World War, Lentonville yet again assured that its country's fighting men had enough ammunition, weapons and war-machines to win; this time with factory's previously abandoned now being refitted to produce these valuable goods, thus allowing the ever-aware entrepreneurs of elsewhere to ensure that they would reap huge profits. The end of the war saw the town's already sprawling motorcar manufacturing industry take-off fairly quickly; the weapons factories too, though these were naturally limited to how far the newly emerging military industrial complex was willing to invest. For the motorcar industry, the public was eager and willing to pay hundreds of thousands to get their dream car. The post-war economic boom that would carry on for decades, from the late 1940s through most of the 20th century, charged forward, giving Lentonville a prosperous and idyllic image. Hardworking American citizens, toiling during the weekdays to churn out automotive masterpieces in increasingly complex industry, could return to modern homes, built by their employers to ensure workforce happiness and productivity, and enjoy a night-out in malt shops and cafes, or even a night in listening to a variety of radio performances on the town's radio. Indeed, the town's automotive industry brought it an air of success; indeed, this very industry shaped much of the town. Drive-in theaters, drive-thru eateries - all were created with a sizeable amount of advertisements for the next coupe, or with plaques proudly advertising their date of construction, opening and the names of the various investors and automobile companies that these investors were associated with. This petrol-head status certainly ensured that the town stood out, at least in a "quirky" manner that drew a few amused titters from those who came across this charmingly car-obsessed town. As the 20th century came to a close, the rise of atomic power as the main fuel source saw many changes; namely to that of the process of manufacturing the cars that churned off assembly lines across town. Atomic reactors replaced internal combustion engines, coolant replaced petroleum and more and more automated systems came into being in both the cars and the factories that made them. Some of these factories also branched out into other consumer goods areas, albeit in limited ways; some began the manufacture of terminals, others saw experimentation into the newly opened robotics market. With the rise of corporations like the Chryslus Motors Corporation, vehicle production seemed only to increase, alongside other consumer goods like those of the latent robotics market, now coming into it's own with the creation of corporations specialising in that field like RobCo Industries seeing a flurry of investment and order placements. And yet, the town remained relatively unheard of; pleasantly situated in blissful small-town Americana that seemed to keep all other forces outside; the most pressing matter for many town residents was what was required of them for the next company bake-sale or how well their children performed in lower and higher education. None saw fit to look outside of their happy little bubble.
The 2030s saw the first muffled signs of what was soon to become evident; there was a growing shortage in resources like petroleum and uranium across the world. No one in Lentonville seemed to notice, or even to care; they were far too busy being wowed by shiny new Mister Handys and Protectrons. The 2040s saw a clearer picture emerge, with experts in almost every country realising that this shortage was a damning one; military planners began drawing up strategies and tactics to ensure that their nations could secure the few important resources that now remained, dwindling and declining as they were. Yet, Lentonville's residents still didn't seem to take heed of all of this; Nuka Cola, after all, had been invented and was just taking off, refreshing taste and delightful advertising drawing many smiling customers. It really wasn't until the 2050s that greater heed was paid; this was when it began to affect citizen's directly. No longer were the only people paying attention to world events the descendants of the ostracised of the civil-war, paranoid and well-armed as they were; now the average Joe and Jane were forced to watch the rapidly changing international situation with helpless horror. The Resource Wars between the European Commonwealth and the Middle East saw horrific pictures of terrible atrocities beamed into sitting rooms throughout the nation; the shattered remnants of the once mighty Texan oil fields came through with just as much as a stunning effect. Lentonville soon saw a sudden boom in intrusion into its merry, civilian existence - specifically, from the likes of companies and corporations like Furman Robotics & Engineering, a company particularly interested in becoming involved in the burgeoning defense industry suddenly booming; many in Lentonville found themselves happily employed in this and the many other factories slowly but surely preparing for a move to arms manufacture rather than the traditional bread-and-butter automobile manufacture; many citizens of the burgeoning suddenly found a growing taste for war directly on their doorsteps in the shape of recruitment leaflets advising every right-minded patriot to do his bit and enlist. Worse was to come. As the 2050s rattled to an end, the bitter squabbles between the last two superpowers, China and America, became open threats of war; now many residents began to view the outside world with horror, unable to tear themselves away from the terrible events unfolding, both in public and in private as patriotic fervour grew to fever pitch, with calls for war to test the mettle of the troublesome foreign communists involving more than a little talk of nuclear weapons. Some sought solace in their own preparations for the worst, kitting their basements out with modern, state-of-the-art survival equipment, Civil Defense Administration meetings and seminars were regularly attended by concerned couples and fretting families and opportunistic companies like Pulowski Preservation Services, not above making a buck off the fears of others, saw to it that Pulowski Preservation shelters were built on nearly every street in town. Some of the more economically well-off residents in town even purchased places in Vaults; often times moving away from the town to be close to these underground shelters. For most, however, such safety was out of reach. Thus, with the arrival of the 2060s, the illusion of the peaceful, cloistered suburban life was shattered. In 2066, the Chinese People's Liberation Army invaded Alaska thus starting the Sino-American War; the Resource Wars, it seemed, had finally arrived on American shores.
Lentonville ran through the old rigmarole practised for almost a hundred years during the early months of the war; rearming a relatively taken-aback US military with artillery and rifles, grenades and tanks, to ultimately ensure a swift recapture of cities like Anchorage. Many of Lentonville's citizens also departed with the military in their dozens; some keen to fight, others unsure of what lay ahead. Many citizens, keen to keep up a positive attitude, took part in the war-effort through scrap collection, knitting circles and dig-for-victory communal gardens to free-up relatively over-stretched federal management. Others, slightly less patriotic, continued to live life as they had, albeit grumbling about the newly brought into effect rationing system. Those who had remained cloistered away, the descendants of Confederate outcasts, became even more so; stocking up on all manner of supplies and weapons, ever more aware of some great impending disaster. Yet, for the moment, everything seemed to be running fairly smoothly; as the bitter fighting continued, the rationing system came to be somewhat improved, those who took part in patriotic activities were rewarded and radio and television continued to announce nothing but good news from the frontlines. As the 2060s rolled on, a relatively comfortable existence took hold; the routine of it all helped silence any doubts among the more easily placated residents, whilst visible advancements in technology saw to the peace of mind of those less convinced by propaganda. The factories even began work on what was, at the time, a strangely foreign and almost alien concept; Power Armor, supposedly the next best step forward in ensuring American exceptionalism. Bulky and unwieldy though these suits certainly were, their appearance brought a great level of comfort to all those that saw them. To those who saw them, they were war winning weapons. However, few got to actually see them in person; the military, mindful of sabotage and espionage, kept these suits carefully watched under close-guard and under lock and key within underground areas of certain factories within the town - only a select few citizenry would see these machines up-close and personal. With the deployment of these war-winning powered suits and various other experimental arms to the frontlines of Alaska, it was inevitable that, in January of 2077, the Battle of Anchorage would end in favour of American forces. Many citizens breathed a sigh of relief, believing all-too readily that the war was over. Yet, it soon became clear that the US was not simply content with retaking Alaska; talk came up quickly of troop deployments overseas to capture parts of China and other locales and countries, keen to seize the few resources that China and their allies held. Initially surprised at this, many citizens simply knuckled-down and carried on with their daily affairs; no one wanted to be seen as unpatriotic, after all.
October of that year was as calm as any year; the typical television and radio reports were sunny forecasts regarding both the weather and the ongoing war, predicting warm evenings and swift victory respectively. It was expected to be a fairly good Halloween, with families already in the process of decorating their houses with paper decorations and plastic pumpkins, when the first scattered reports of nuclear detonations came in. Not many people paid any heed, though those that did immediately set about pulling food from their pantries and running to basements or public shelters, like Pulowski's ill-thought-out Preservation shelters. The first blasts seen on the horizon looked menacing to convince those who saw them that their was indeed something to the now cut-off reports coming from their televisions and radios. Air-raid sirens rang out across the town minutes before the first full blast came. It was a single detonation that hit a few miles to the east, but the shock-wave and resulting rush of smoke and debris certainly brought about full chaos. Buildings, vehicles and even townspeople were battered by a rush of scorching air and dust; debris falling on those still out in the open, scorching air singing the bright dresses and trimmed suits of these terrified residents. Some buildings were inevitably destroyed out-right, though most remained relatively intact; these would be brought down only later, through the natural process of decay brought about by passing decades. For now, however, the town stood in the middle of chaos; looting began almost immediately as the few officers of the town's relatively under-manned sheriff's office returned to protect their families; the Furman Robotics facility cut itself off from the rest of the town, those trapped inside left to the mercy of the seemingly homicidal automated security or the radiation now seeping in following the blasts. The National Guard only arrived four days after the chaotic Great War had finished; the town, by then, was in ruins. Many had already been killed by their neighbours, others had died of radiation poisoning or severe injuries sustained. The town's clinics and pharmacies had already been looted, and those guardsmen who did have medical supplies with them found themselves unable to aid those who were in need of them. Weeks into the ensuing chaos, most of these guardsmen themselves gave up trying and departed from their units, leaving behind that which they could not carry with them. The collapse of society seemed very much complete. Still, many residents remained in town; some became among the first of the wasteland's new Ghoul demographic. Most, however, gradually adjusted to the new harsh-life they found themselves living. That which could be taken for survival means was. Stores, houses, offices; all were broken into and all were gutted. The best survivors amongst these first few were arguably those who had prior to the nuclear Armageddon been openly mocked and derided; the descendants of the Confederate soldiers who had remained in their hometown, broken and dejected. These people, linked closely through family ties and history, formed the first 'law' that would grace the ruined town; in 2085, the roughshod militia that had prior ensured the shooting of murderers and thieves became the 'official' militia of the town for a while, though these men and women themselves often partook in the odd bit of criminal thievery.
As the 21st Century came to a close, a bitter one at that, the ruins of Lentonville slowly began to be re-populated by those lucky few who had survived thus far; both from elsewhere in the ruins of Virginia and even those who had overcome the many hardships in the wastes in search of a place to settle. The town, once a place of great industrial manufacturing, had regressed back to it's original roots in a way; a shanty-town-esque locale brimming with tired and fearful settlers, eking out a rough existence with what farming could actually be done; in these early years, such farming was naturally difficult - the soil was brimming with radiation, the water was still largely undrinkable and what crops survived were still in the process of mutating dramatically. It was quite natural then, given the fact that the depressingly hard life often crushed the hope and happiness out of those who still harboured optimism, that many would take to vices that were heavily frowned upon by those prior to the war; liquor, chems and all manner of depravity became quite common in the town, with the former two increasingly coming into production in the newly re-inhabited suburban homes and stores, chem-labs and makeshift breweries cropping up across the town. Even with the arrival of dangerous mutants on the post-war scene, not to mention raiders and bandits, these hardy settlers would not shy away from partaking in vices that distracted them from their painful lives. The 22nd Century rolled on with a seemingly painful reluctance, with what little change that did come about rarely being for the better; though the reactivation of the ageing radio station around 2134 was certainly a nice change, with the miserable days made somewhat less miserable by the crooning Bing Crosby's singing echoing out of aged Radiation King radios. Eventually, change arrived with the eventual shift to a market economy as opposed to a bartering one; though already having been in circulation for sometime elsewhere, Bottlecaps as a form of currency finally arrived in Lentonville; the supply and demand system brought about by this shift certainly gave the few farmer's still tilling the soil an incentive that had been lost since the pre-war days. Scavengers also found new reason to pull out formerly worthless pieces of scrap; traders, both local and from elsewhere in the wastes, wanted a variety of old pre-war technology that had been in wide circulation in the formerly great industrial town. Indeed, with the emergence of the scavenger as arguably the second-most important role in the town, and even the most profitable of the two.
With this change, the town truly took off; pre-war minds, now mostly residing in rotting Ghoul bodies, went to work as financial planners and even repairmen, the former giving advice to the farmers on how to weather turbulent financial markets, bamboozling and then benefiting off their employers, and the latter making a sizeable portion of caps off the scavenger's hauls repairing their goods, whether through unfair prices or genuine quality service. The old market economy had returned and with it, Lentonville's reputation as a town of commerce; albeit a different type of commerce. One such benefactor of this new post-war economic resurgence of the 2140s to 2150s in Lentonville was Silas Hammond, one of the many pre-war benefactor's of the town's relative opulence and standing as an automotive manufacturer; now, in the harsh post-war world where for years he had stood silently by, he now sought power under the auspices of leader of the now thriving community. He stood to gain a great deal of prominence in the mayoral office and, as one of the most trusted figures in town, both by the population at large and the more senior figures, specifically those ranchers in the now booming Brahmin trade, was doubted only by a few when he ran for office. His business acumen propelled his supposed friends in farming to great heights, at least in terms of economic power and wealth, whilst his experience in the fields of finance and commerce saw him as one of the more trusted amongst the small circle of Ghoul economic minds. All seemed quite well; until the great Lentonville riots of 2160. Strange, robotic figures, whirring and clicking, deployed a strange, mist-forming gas; initially, most ignored them. Then, the gas' effects took hold, and it was all too late to stop them. Merchants in the middle of deals, vagrants in the middle of begging, punters in the middle of drinking; all delivered to a state of derangement, attacking those around them in a few hours of mindless blood-shed that some swore brought more damage to the town than anything the bombs had wrought; when the chaos subsided, what was left of the battered town stood smouldering, survivors emerging from hiding or from their altered state of mind in confusion and horror; families lay dead, crops lay razed; all was seemingly lost, In 2161, with the town's economy having suffered a terrific decline following this great disaster, Silas was chosen as the town's first post-war mayor; a title that he gladly accepted, owing to the power it afforded him and the fact that he was allowed the right to hold it for life. He brought radical new fiscal changes, quickly seizing control of many of the town's more profitable assets under the guise of protecting the town's rather meagre economy; these, it seemed, were the winning policies, for they brought back much of the revenue that the riots had driven away. One relatively unpopular decision enforced by Hammond was the banning of scavenging in the industrial ruins, specifically those near the old Furman Robotics facility; many scavengers felt they were being robbed of a lucky score, though the more common sentiment amongst the settlers in Lentonville was whatever lay inside those decrepit ruins was best left undisturbed.
The town's fortunes grew until around 2175, where the short-lived economic return finally tapered off; nevertheless, the town's fortunes as a trading hub had already been established with the increase in amenities and leisure activities made available to caravaneers, and its prosperity would carry from 2175 all the way to 2243; these decades of prosperity certainly cemented the power of Silas Hammond, to the point where he began buying up his own private force under the claim that he was seeking to implement a 'fairer' justice system, as opposed to the then common practice of frontier justice; Hammond's Gunners, as they came to be known, were founded by Hammond made up of a collection of fairly brutal former member of some of the many bandit groups roaming the Virginia wastes. Hammond's Gunners came into being at a very interesting time, with the town's old militia falling palling apart. Hammond, ever the business-minded gentleman, took great pains to push for the acceptance of his personal bodyguard as Sheriff of the town, something which many in town, aware of her past, were unable to do; those that agreed with Hammond's choice did so only because they admired Hammond's business savvy. The turbulent relations between the citizenry and their 'law enforcement', often seen partaking in the harassment and thievery they had been employed to prevent, carried across the years as the 2200s reached their twilight; here, relations broke down almost entirely, especially as the appointment of the relatively-new Linda Pascall in 2256 saw the imposition of heavy taxation on local businesses. In 2279, a bar-brawl turned into a full battle as local ranchers' assistants and apprentices fought Hammond's Gunners in the streets as a dispute over the price of pre-war Whiskey snowballed into a fist fight that turned fatal; one apprentice was killed, subsequently prompting the man's friends and colleagues to descend on the establishment in question and light the building on fire, killing several of the Gunners; as the raging shootout that followed took place, a small band of citizens seized Hammond, Pascall and several prominent ranchers and threatened the rioters with their execution if the situation was not immediately defused. Sure enough, albeit with numerous complaints, the battle had ended as quickly as it had begun; thirteen ranchers were dead, alongside fourteen of the Gunners and three or four uninvolved townspeople killed in the crossfire. The incident prompted many in the town to to closely watch and monitor the Gunners from then on, arming themselves and forming their own armed groups to protect their property, with Silas Hammond keeping his men on a tight leash with the threat of a pay cut to Pascall's own personal wages and a revoking of privileges, one that greatly soured relations between Hammond and his own lackeys.
Also accompanying this incident was a sudden drop-off of economic fortune; whilst the town's earnings had stopped progressively going up every year in 2243, they had not begun dropping until the turn of 2278 - once again, personal fortunes were diminished and those of unfixed occupation or abode soon left the little town for perceived greener pastures. Some in the town blamed Hammond and his policies; even more blamed Pascall and her mercenaries. Whatever the case, Pascall and Hammond's relationship became strained; the two finding themselves vying for control and power over the other. Hammond's Gunners, despite their nomenclature, remained loyal to Pascall; most of the town's people, while despising Hammond, felt the need to protect the 'democratic' institutions and offices of the town, not to mention their own livelihoods and businesses. Thus, they sided with the mayor, arguably the only really useful leader amongst them. A cold war, as of 2287, runs steadily along - the two sides full of deep mistrust for one another, keen to find an excuse to attack the other. Regardless of this, the townsfolk weren't and aren't about to let something as little as possible civil-war and civil-strife to stop the ever-present demands of commerce; the town, it seems, is and forever will be, at least for the foreseeable future, open for business, regardless of the corrupt authorities and hazards of the cruel, unforgiving post-war world; but, with observant eyes and sinister motives, unknown figures watch them from the shadows; waiting for an opportunity to strike and take the liberty-loving town under his benevolently ruthless mechanical wing.
- Protectron: The reliable Protectron of sturdy RobCo design has and still can be seen marching on ageing servos and rusting ball-joints in Lentonville, with most still in service at the old Lentonville Radio offices to this very day. Whilst most are completely passive and uninterested in the world around them, rigidly following their programming to this very day, some are certainly more hostile than others; overzealous police robots have been known to open fire on the odd scavenger or two.
- Mister Handy: The classically-programmed Mr. Handy, with his faux gentleman's accent and range of programming have served the town well, through thick-and-thin; some still whir about in long abandoned homes, attending to long dead residents, blurting out merry conversation and enthusiastic tirades uncaringly.
- Sentry Bot: The large, tank-like Sentry Bot, abandoned by the US Military following the Great War, can be found in relatively sparse numbers; very few remain active after the hundreds of years of decay, but those that do remain intact provide the greatest threat faced by scavengers and those looking to explore the town thoroughly.
- Radroach: Skittering and belligerent, the disgusting Radroach is little more than a pain-in-the-neck for most in Lentonville - many have had the misfortune of opening a long-abandoned fridge only to have one of these ugly bugs tumble out onto them, clicking all the while.
- Bloatfly: Whizzing across empty plains and fields to fire putrid, piercing projectiles of maggots at their foes, the Bloatfly is another little bug that has turned into a pain in the post-war world's posterior; easily dispatched though they are, their painful little 'jabs' leave many reeling in pain.
- Feral Ghoul: Once the completely sane inhabitants of Lentonville, post and pre-war, Feral Ghouls are savage foes and one of the more common enemies faced by scavengers and hunters; when one hears their screeching, one is well advised to turn in the direction of the sound and give the rotting corpses a taste of lead.
- Brahmin: Slow, lumbering and frustratingly placid, Brahmin often see use in Lentonville as both grazing animals, food sources and pack animals; it's said that when a Brahmin doesn't take to work, it's because one of it's eight stomachs is empty.
- Dog: Man's best friend, both before and after the atomic apocalypse, the humble Dog has served as both a menace and a friend to the inhabitants of Lentonville; hunters use them as sniffer dog, scavengers use them as company and others less inclined to look at as pets use them as a handy food source.
- Vixen: Humble foxes turned dangerous predators, Vixens have become famous for their savagery and ferocity; nevertheless, many hunt rather than avoid these dangerous predators owing to the rather plentiful number near the town - that, and the popularity of these overgrown foxes' hides.
- Giant Ant: Once a tiny horde of pests who's terrible might consisted mostly of stealing the odd pretzel from a picnic hamper, the now overgrown Giant Ant is a foe worthy of even the best hunter; piercing mandibles make short work of any armour, whilst the skittering legs mean that even the most nimble of scavengers will have a challenge outrunning them.
- Deathclaw: Rare, but terrifyingly strong, the Deathclaw is a species created through pre-war genetic manipulation and post-war radiation and mutation; strong, razor sharp claws carve through even the toughest of armours and strong, powerful limbs ensure that tearing a man in half is but a trifling, minor effort on this vicious predator's behalf.
- Yao Guai: From the fires of atomic annihilation comes a mutation of the dangerous pre-war bear; the Yao Guai as it has come to be known is just as, if not more, dangerous as it's un-irradiated counterpart - capable of tearing through the thickest hide and durable enough to take even the heaviest caliber rounds to it's own, the Yao Guai's pelt is a prized collection for any hunter.
Citizens of Note
- Silas Hammond: An affable, elderly Ghoul with a penchant for smooth whiskey and cigars, Silas Hammond is the mayor-for-life of Lentonville, standing as one of the good-and-great of the town. Capable of swaying most not with sterling charisma, a trait he has not been especially noted for throughout his long life, but with plain facts, he has come to be trusted for his simple reliance on graphs, charts and written reports; even though most of his contemporaries, especially those who have not had the mixed-fortune of living for more than a hundred years.
- Linda Pascall: Elderly by the time 2287 reared it's head, Pascall is the archetypal matriarch; strong of will and mind, experienced and able to control a gaggle of otherwise uncontrollable men and women; armed and otherwise. Relying on this afforementioned mental might and reputation she has built over the many years for toughness, Pascall has certainly garnered quite the cult of personality; though Hammond's Gunners bares the name of the town's mayor, she is often considered to be the primary leader of this group, with Hammond behind her in terms of influence over his own bodyguards.
- Hammond's Gunners: Rough-and-tumble thugs, thieves and murderers, supposedly reformed and given a new purpose in life, Hammond's Gunners are a collection of moderately well-dressed, fairly well-equipped and highly-motivated muscle for Silas Hammond there to ensure that his grip on power does not weaken. As they are the town's one-and-only form of law enforcement, Hammond's Gunners are in a very comfortable position, with Hammond ensuring that both they and their commander get prime-pickings in any and all deals, though this relationship appears to have changed over the years to one of increasing demand for greater power.
- Lentonville Radio Station: Broadcasting 24/7, both in the pre-war and post-war world, Lentonville's Radio Station broadcasts soft spoken disc-jockey talent and the soft beats of smooth Jazz and Rock 'n' Roll across the town and the immediate wastes surrounding it; often, the radio station serves at the town's first and last link to the rest of the wastes, forever maintained by a dedicated squadron of robotic repairmen and post-war residents.
- Furman Robotics & Engineering Production Plant & Research Facility: A sprawling industrial facility, populated solely by the demented robots who made up the majority of its pre-war workforce, has since the Great War been a staple of the town; many a determined scavenger has tried to pick through the ruins, only to either be unsuccesful at best, or mortally wounded at worst; many have failed to return from it, lending it a reputation as something of a no-go area for both locals and outsiders.
Holotapes of Note
Holotape 01; "Dragster-driving beatniks."
<Click of Recorder.> Sheriff, I realize your a busy man, but I must protest most strongly at the most disturbing and disconcerting laxity that you and your deputies appear to have adopted towards these dragster-driving beatniks zipping down our streets at ludicrous speeds at all hours of the day. I find it infuriating that you have seemed to forget the threat that these people pose to our children and our elderly; why, when they come down the road at such ridiculous speeds, you'd think you could find the time to fine them simply for speeding - but no, you instead insist on ignoring such threats on a search for mythical Communist spies. I realize the war effort requires a bigger focus than simple dangerous driivng, but when it is so blatant and out-in-the-open, I would've thought you would've taken note. Know this, Sheriff, I intend to write to the mayor and form a committee to take action - if that involves removing you by popular vote, then so be it. We need action taken against these vile hooligans - now! <Click of Recorder.>
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