Consecrators of the Exalted (Disbanded)

The day the
bombs dropped Preacher Jacob Lawrence was preparing his sermons in the Gulf
Commonwealth.  To him, it was a day like
any other, a day wrought with the vengeance of an angry god.  As the reports came in, and the glaring sight
of the bombs loomed in the distance, he was not surprised.  New Orleans was nothing more than a crater,
and judgment day was upon them. Jacob had seen the signs of the apocalypse each
and every day, though he thought he would be welcomed into the kingdom of his god.  Instead, he was deep in the swampy marshes of
the bayou, and unafflicted by the initial hellfire. The small town he was in
would soon feel the hurt of societies downfall, and the good preacher was there
to help the folks he soon called family. 
He had a massive stockpile of canned foods, decent farm land, extra
clothing, protective measures, and plenty of allies.  The small town was quickly under his care,
and they all looked to him as their leader. 
He answered their questions, gave them purpose, and watched closely over
his delicate flock.
As the days went on, and the years
passed, the stockpile of food began to dwindle, and the animals they hunted
began to mutate.  The waters of the bayou
became exceptionally irradiated and rose higher each month. Jacob Lawrence
sought out the assistance of an old friend, Charles Alston.  Chuck, as they called him, was a trucker
before the Great War, and he knew of the closest truck stops.  After many months of searching these truck
stops, they were finally able to repair a few trucks. They successfully loaded
the people on them and made their way north. 
The Preacher prayed as much as he could in these days; he prayed that
the trucks would be salvageable, that they would bring them to safer harbors,
and that they would finally have their salvation.  Pray as he might, the world only became darker.
Their trucks broke down frequently, they would spend days clearing the debris
and broken-down cars off of the highways, and all the while they fought off the
terrors of the wastes.
Persistently, they carried on to escape the swamp lands, and
then further north to escape the enemies that chased them. As they drove into
the depths of society, they came under attack by vicious creatures, hordes of
ghouls, and humans that had devolved into tribal bands. It was time for the Preacher
to put down his tomes and sermons, and pick up a pistol. All of his people had
to learn how to fight, or die. Fortunately, they made their way into the East
Central Commonwealth, where Charles “Chuck” Alston knew of a massive truck garage.
Before the Great War, the garage had gained a government contract; they
repaired old military vehicles and suits of Power Armor.  The few military vehicles were unsalvageable,
but some of the Power Armor was, though they needed work. Charles spent much of
his time welding sheet metal together to try his best and make viable
protective armors. For a time, it worked, and when their last truck broke down,
the Armor was the extra push they needed to carry forward.
On foot, they marched to reach a safe haven, many of them
were cut down by the evil that relentlessly stalked them.  It did not matter, for the strongest of them
persevered.  The Preacher, angry and
distraught at the loss of so many, became mad, and his sermons were filled with
anger. He told his people, the few that remained, that their job was to clean
the world of the demons that haunted the lands. He said, that their god charged
them to become vanquishers, to defend the innocent against legions of
hellhounds, and stomp out those that dare go against them.  He told them that they are to be justice, and
it is they who must bring judgement down upon these unholy lands.  Thus, began their exodus, and their mighty
crusade. The preacher, and his right-hand man, Charles Alston, forged the
survivors into warriors. They had found their salvation in the East Central
Commonwealth; instead of running, they fought. 
They hunted down raider gangs, decimated slavers, and anointed the
wasteland in the blood of the damned. 
The settlers that they came across either followed their ways, or died
as heretics.  The preacher became known
as High Lord, and he made Charles his Justiciar. Together they formed a society
of defenders. Ranks were created and a formal discipline was put in place.
During this time a man, by the name of William Johnson,
became one of the deadliest members of this group.  William would venture out on his lonesome,
and spend days culling the tide of evil that plagued the wastes.  Wielding two revolvers, and a lever-action
rifle, he hunted down the creatures and criminals that threatened his
people.  William soon became the highest
ranking and most revered member of their group, Exarch.  Whenever they needed a group of raiders taken
out, or a compound cleared, Exarch William Johnson was sent to do the
deed.  In the cover of the night, he
could sneak his way through enemy lines, and disable them from within. Their
numbers began to grow once again, as they liberated the weak from the evil
gangs. The Preacher, High Lord Jacob Lawrence, refused to allow his new flock
to become fodder for the twisted, again. 
He sent his followers on tasks that would test their faith, their might,
and their vigilance.  For in the eyes of their
god, only few were worthy enough to become, The Exalted.
Category:Factions
Category:Cultists