The Life of the (Waste)Land is Perpetuated in Righteousness [Andrew Mumford OPEN]

You wake up and the entire world spins around you. At first you think that it is because of the waves and such but then you slowly discover that no, the ship is still, way too still. You stretch out and raise the blanket of the bed you are in, to discover to your horrors two things that you weren't expecting and you didn't wanted, at all.

One was a set of bloody bandages across your chest, bandages that for some reason were also dark in some areas yet didn't stunk of rotten flesh, so necrosis could at least be discarded. The other was the same ghoulette that gave you the drink, in this occasion completely naked and snuggled up to your body, which was also naked.

You couldn't avoid it, you moved and puked violently, you didn't knew if from the mixture of badly distilled booze and mutant meat that was now churning inside your guts or because you had fucked that necrotic post human who was surely older than your great-great-great-great grandmother.

Luckily for you the girl was so asleep that you could easily sneak past her and get towards all your clothes and gear. When you were putting on your upper clothes you felt pain on your chest, you slowly removed all the bandages and discovered something bad...something REALLY BAD.

Spoiler:

A tattoo with the inscription Ghoul Lover and the image of a crude ghoul embedded on the skin of your chest. Possibly made by that same Ghoulette and with who knows what rusty needle. You have to get out of the ship as soon as possible and perhaps even see a doctor to check on any infection or std. And of course find a way of removing that tattoo, there is no way you will be accepted onto the Enclave ranks with that on your body.

The room was similar to the one he first awoke in, if not slightly larger. The door was wooden as opposed to the cast steel he had become accustomed to.

Regretting the events of the previous night, Andrew stood up, walked over to his few possessions, and got dressed, but not before checking that his johnson wasn't glowing. Luckily, it appeared regular and unglowing.

Andrew ran his fingers over the abomination that covered his upper chest. It felt bumpy and uneven, like it was done by a child with Parkinsons. This would surely need to be removed, thought Andrew as he walked towards the door.

He opened the wooden door and stepped outside into a long hallway, with three doors on each side and one on each end. The door on the right end had an inscription crudely scraped in it. Upon closer inspection the inscription said "Captain's Quarters". This was presumably where Saltgut was quartered. Andrew walked to the door opposite the Captain's Quarters and opened the door, seeing that it led outside. Andrew stepped out into a soft rain and saw the man who had previously soiled on him.

To Andrew's surprise the ship wasn't on open sea but instead docked on some crude part of this wretched wasteland. A ring of rusted up ships, planes and vehicles extended towards a mound made from the same materials and components, yet in a less rusted state. Wooden planks and haphazard catwalks were extended creating a web of pathways towards the other docks and the center of the island. Down below these paths several crevices were the poor lived squandered and hid from the dangerous pirates or waited to assault and rob lonely newcomers.

This entire place represented all what the Enclave strive to destroy and eradicate. Looking back at the fishing ship you saw something new on it, a black flag, a pirate jolly roger depicting a skeletal merfolk with two oversized hooks on its hands. These weren't mere fishermen, they were pirates too, and seemed like you were the last one to join their crew.

Andrew walked over to the handrail and surveyed the landscape that was before him, Men walking in out of ships that were dressed as shops, painted women standing next to the doors of the dilapidated shacks and stepping inside only when men approached them.

Andrew saw this place and knew that giving the location of this cesspit would help convince the Enclave regional commanders of his long-standing allegiance. However, His first priority was removing the abomination that plastered his upper-left chest and contacting the Enclave regional command. To start, he walked over to one of the ships posing as a general store in search of a radio and walked inside.

The room was the hollowed out hull of a tugboat not dissimilar to the one that carried Andrew to this slum of an island. In the center stood a counter tended by a local. The man tending the counter was at least 6' tall with biceps the size of a small dog, his body battered and covered in blemished after years of enduring the living conditions of cavemen and degenerates. Andrew walked up to the counter and asked "Do you have any HAM radios in stock?".

The man grunted, he gave a throughout look at Andrew and then nodded.

"Aye. I got what you seek lad! In here you'll find all the radio you might ever want."

He then crouched and rummaged across something under his counter but to Andrew's surprise the shopkeeper then grabbed a dirty shotgun and aimed it at him.

"Yer too clean, and that's never a good sign 'round 'ere. I don't know yeh and I got no trust in strangers, get out before I turn you into shark bait."

He then cocked the weapon and winked at Andrew.

"Why are ye still here? You feelin' lucky today, punk?"

Andrew knew the man would shoot him on the spot unless he left or explained his presence. Perhaps being a pirate had its advantages here.

Andrew then quickly replied "I'm a member of Saltgut's crew. If you shoot you will have to explain to him why one of his crew members is dead."

"Saltgut uh?"

The muscular man relaxed for a second, then showing his impressive strength he grabbed the weapon with a single hand without ever flinching and then used his free appendage to grab a combat knife from his belt. With a surprisingly quick movement he slashed your upper clothes and revealed your recently acquired tattoo. After doing so he lowered the weapons and started to guffaw like a pig.

When his laughing fit ended he removed his sweat stained t-shirt and revealed a similar yet cruder tattoo. A heart with the name "Marie" and under it several scarified tally marks, surely done with the same knife that had stripped you naked.

"Seem's like ol' Marie still got it eh? I might make her a visit after this. Thanks for fucking and warming her cunt for me lad, I guess that means she's still wet and I'll be able to skip all the foreplay nonsense."

By the look of the scars that covered his chest he had fucked her a LOT of times. And surely knowing that she was sterile she was happy to let him finish inside of her with his filthy...meat and seed.

"Take this Radio! On the house!"

Says the now more apacible man, as he gives you a crappy and half broken radio that might have been considered old even before the war. It's hard to say if he gives it to you because it's happy of seeing Marie again or because he just wanted to get rid of the thing.

Andrew quickly felt the shame rise in him with the knowledge that he had entered the same place as this degenerate. However, he kept his composure as this radio was his key back to the Enclave.

His next priority was removing this violation on his chest, he knew asking for its removal from any islander could possibly offend them and their favorite whore. He would have to remove it himself. The tattoo was not deep in the skin and could be removed with a few layers of skin. He decided to contact the Enclave and then remove it quickly with his knife before their arrival.


Andrew hastily put the radio in his backpack and stepped out of the broken hull and returned to the pirate tugboat. The Jolly Rodger now flew above the vessel and reminded Andrew of the savages who shot down Andrew's vertibird. On his way back to the room he saw Saltgut cleaning his shotgun on the bow of the ship. Andrew walked up to the ghoul and asked "Where will I be quartered?".

The ship was in a completely chaotic state. There were passed out mariners, some of them even naked, scattered booze, chems and condoms everywhere and strange overwhelming smells coming from all places. Moving across the people could prove difficult and slow, but not impossible. Saltgun was stationed in his quarters, resting on top of what seemed like a cum crusted and disease filled mattress and surrounded by a pile of dirty clothes and booze bottles. After hearing your question he weakly saluted you.

"Nguh? Don't wake me so soon you fucking bilge rat! Go and sleep anywhere unoccupied."

He was all naked with the exception of some dirty sunglasses and now he had a big pool of vomit and blood staining his chest.

Shortly after saying this the radio on your backpack came to life. Pre-war engineers were masters at making things to last and it seemed that even after centuries of misuse the device was still with some juice inside on it and enough gears to work. Right now the signals that it were receiving were pretty weak and filled with noise, but who knows, perhaps by exploring the island you might find spots with better coverage.