Montana Chapter events/scriptoutput (4.1.3)

id
### Patrocolus' Charge

*Long ago, in the American Midwest, a set of Midwestern Scribes and Paladins were running a search operation within their hundredth or so derelict facility. Just as they thought they had seen it all, they found something remarkable: a map to a pre-war bunker that pointed to what had once been known as the state of Montana. The supply log was simple but powerful, and to some, mythological: the bunker was designed to hold its own weight in Fusion Cores, Plasma Rifles, and other associated supplies.

The weight of such an expedition was considered for a time, but deemed fruitless. This bunker had surely been plundered, some said: others, that it was simply too far to send a recovery detachment and expect realistic, worthwhile results. With the threat of the Enclave in Chicago, and the threads that held the Brotherhood together already strained, it was deemed unworthwhile.

That is, until one certain Paladin decided to steal the notes, the cipher, and several other pieces of confidential Brotherhood data, eloping by her lonesome into the long night north. An expedition was mustered nearly overnight, the embarrassment and anger of the higher echelons like a risible thunder through the ranks. To them, in such a state of emergency, there was only one man fit to send. "Go Patrocolus, go forth and scour this traitor, and secure this vault for the Brotherhood," they told him.

And so, he set off. What did he prioritize in the expedition's forces?*

**He prioritized experience over numbers.*** Gain Army experience **50** Army Experience

**Experience was important, but numbers would outlast veterancy.*** **250** units of File:United States of America.png United States of America enclave\_power\_armour\_equipment\_1 is added to the national Stockpile
* Gain Manpower **500** Manpower

 id### The Sisters of Steel

*Among Patrocolus' ranks was a peculiar group, the ‘Sisters of Steel,' controversial in their formation and moreso with their inclusion in the expedition. Composed almost entirely of ex-Tribals, Reaver descendants, and reformed Raiders, the Sisters were a group formed entirely around the concept of camaraderie over Codex-- something that has gotten them into considerable trouble in the past.

When Patrocolus chose to include them, he did so out of a mixture of pity and mannered respect. The rogue Paladin who had stolen the confidential materials was a Sister herself, after all. While his colleagues expressed pushback at the thought, he held faith in the idea that they had a chance to redeem themselves under his charge, and restore their position in the Brotherhood.

Their leader, Sentinel Honour, has long-since been a disputed figure under the Midwestern hegemony. Some claim that even with her years of training under the Brotherhood, she retains a fiery independence unlike those of her status-- causing those loyal to her to be fiercely so, and her detractors to be even louder...*

**Sisters Stand Strong.*** Gain  **150** Political Power
* Gain **5%** War support War Support

 id### By the Fireside, Out on the Frontier

*Down the hill from Honour's perch-of-choice was a party of friends and family. Cries of cheer and valorous boasts emanated like a roundabout clockwork, as they did at every celebration. Even still, as she watched the campfires flicker and the Knights drink deeply of their canteens, she couldn't have felt more lonely. Before she could sink deeper into her thoughts, she heard the aged boot of Patrocolus stamp down next to her.

"Sitting up here alone?" he chuckled, "You know, we're a week or so out from the bunker, Honour— why not come celebrate?" asked Patrocolus.

Honour snickered softly. "As fun as that sounds, my mind remains on the Johanna situation... I can't fathom her reasoning."

Patrocolus sighed, understanding but dismissive. "I'll do you one better: it doesn't matter. She ran off with some of our most valuable knowledge without so much as a word in her stead. As far as I'm concerned, if she cared at all, she'd have said something." he rested his hands on his hips, "I know what you're thinking, but she knew what would happen."

"I know her better than you, Patrocolus," Honour said gently, "She's not a traitor. She's family, to you and to me."

"Then I suppose someone should have told her that before this all happened," Patrocolus shrugged his shoulders, "In any case, I'll have some of the others save you some rations. We don't know what to expect deeper in Montana." he dusted himself off, glancing back to her. "Family, Honour, is the folks who stayed with you the whole way, no matter what."

Honour glanced up with a semi-stern gaze, rich with a valorous intent. "I agree," she said, knowing they meant two different things...*

**The Night is Long and Our Hearts Young.*** Gain **10%** War support War Support
* Gets the National Spirit  *“High Hopes and Heavy Hearts”* for 1 year

**High Hopes and Heavy Hearts**

* Stability: **+5%**
* Division Recovery Rate: **+5%**
* Division Attrition: **−5%**

 id### Training Report

*The elder had called for Warwick and Hayman to give him an in-person report on their recent ventures: keeping tabs had become an important part of the post-sisterhood Expedition, after all. Patrocolus looked up from his papers as they entered, removing his reading glasses. "How are you two liking the new initiates?"

Hayman cut Warwick off in a flash. "I'm glad you asked." she pulled out a laser pistol, aiming it directly at Patrocolus' head and firing. A near perfect 45 degree miss— the laser leaving a black mark on the bunker wall.

After a fumble, the Elder snarled back. "Watch where you point that damn thing, Hayman!" Patrocolus spat.

She rolled her eyes beneath her helmet. "You knew damn well it wasn't going to hit you." she said dismissively.

Warwick withheld a comment, instead answering as normal as he could. "So, that bad? How new are they?"

"Two weeks into training. Their hands were too fidgety. Bastard couldn't keep them straight long enough to hold the refractor in place, so now it's a dud until I fix it myself."

Warwick rubbed his face, "Let me guess: you were standing right next to them while they did it?"

"So I was."

"I think we just figured out why they were freaked out," Warwick raised a brow, half-frowning. "You realize there's no good reason to watch them like a hawk, right?"

"Hm," Hayman grunted, inspecting the laser pistol idly. "How about working under pressure?"*

**Thankfully, she's not my teacher!**
(Nothing)

 id### A Funny Day In The Bunker

*Patrocolus found a strange audio log he didn't recognize on his desk. Playing it, he heard Scribe Amity and Knight Siegfra talking over another...

"§GSo, okay,§!" Amity began, "§GWe had an idea--§!"

"§O--yeah, yeah, we were thinking that--§!"

"§G--we found an old pamphlet in a school nearby--§!"

"§OBasically, a SCIENCE DRIVE to get people really, really--§!"

"§GIt'll be super fun, seriously--§!"

"§O--we swear it won't go wrong and we'll overlook every detail--§!"

"§GNothing could possibly go wrong!§!"*

**...We'll see about that.*** Gets the National Spirit File:Generic research boost.png *“The Science Drive, Driving!”*

The Science Drive, Driving! icon**The Science Drive, Driving!**

* Research Speed: **+6%**

 id### Maybe This Was A Mistake...

*Patrocolus often liked to go on long walks outside the bunker, admiring the scenery and finding calm places to simply think on things without the humdrum of lights and busy bustling of knights. Johanna, especially, preoccupied his time-- and Honour's lot. Though he knew he did right by the Codex, and by the Brotherhood, he couldn't help but think on her words extensively, as if her face alone was haunting him. Realizing he was too left alone with his thoughts, he returned to the bunker--

And found the worst mess he had ever seen. The leftovers of a ‘mini-volcano' were strewn about the floor, a small plasma coil had exploded, blowing out a pipe, and somehow Scribe Carmella had been rendered unconscious-- to which, no one had an explanation. Before he could express his anger, a bit of volcanic foam fell on his head, a frothy mess dripping down... And though an expression of terror was on everyone's face, all he could do was laugh and give them a "Be careful next time."*

**Carmella ended up being alright.*** Replace the National Spirit File:Generic research boost.png *“The Science Drive, Driving!”* with the National Spirit File:Generic research boost.png *“The Science Drive, Driven!”*

The Science Drive, Driven! icon**The Science Drive, Driven!**

* Research Speed: **+12%**

 id### The Bewitching Arena Opens Today!

*Come one, come all, to Minerva's Bewitching Arena!

Raise your ear to the sky—-do you hear it? The echoing chant; the scream of victory.

To daredevils and thrill-seekers alike, come on down to the Arena! Lose yourself in the moment; steel-on-steel, sparks, bursts, glory! For the opening month, audience seats are free! So come down and take a gander—-what have you got to lose?

--To register as a participant, you must be a part of the Sisterhood of Steel and rank Knight or higher. If you are an Initiate, you must provide a letter of an endorsement from a verified sponsor.--*

**Daredevils filled the arena grounds!*** Gain  **100** Political Power

**Thrill-seekers flowed in waves!*** Gain **10%** War support War Support

 id### Minerva's Grand Tournament!

*Come on down to watch your beloved Sisters of Steel duke it out and settle the final score! Let's introduce our potential champions and their statements to the fans!

§RJohanna:§! "A heartfelt thanks to everyone cheering me on! I'll do my best!"

§RIsolde:§! "This is my first time participating in anything like this, but I believe in beginner's luck!"

§RLucius:§! "Heh, so this is the competition?"

§RCaerminh:§! "I'm here because I lost a bet. Cool place, though."

§RBetsy:§! "The idea of an arena always excited me. I can't believe we've got something like this going on. I'm pumped and ready!"

§RPenn:§! "Wait... I'm fighting Betsy first?!"

§RWarwick:§! "You want a statement? Sure! To all my opponenets-- good luck. You'll need it."

§RSiohan:§! "Being the only intiate here is nerve-wracking. Especially considering who I'm up against first, but I don't plan on losing on the first round!"

Order your tickets now. Just 7 caps each!*

**Let's Go!*** Set temporary variable caps\_to\_add to -0.07
* Scripted Effect: add\_caps=yes

 id### Johanna's Pre-Rehearsel Log

*§RA flat tone buzzes for a minute, then the feedback cuts. There's a click. Two voices murmur over each other.§!

"Is this thing on?" Johanna's voice cuts in clear. "Damn, you carry this everywhere?"

"Yeah, good for the thoughts, Han. Also you can tell by the red light—" Muffled fumbling interrupts Warwick. "Woah, careful!"

§RTheres a clack, then a moment of awkward silence.§!

"Caught it!" Johanna chuckles weakly. Warwick sighs deeply in the distance. "Okay, now scoot! Get!"

§RWarwick mumbles something unintelligible before a door closes.§!

"Alright, Johanna's log! Super excited for the theatre. Most of the roles have been set. Elizaveta came by the other day. She makes the perfect Sandy, gave her the role instantly. Minerva's playing several background characters since we're short on those. Might be hard since she's so... spotlight material. Thrift's handling special effects, but he said he'd be down to play the coach. Honour says she's coming! It's a little nerve wracking, but that means we gotta bring our best. Now I just need to decide who will play Danny..."

§RTheres a pause, then a gasp.§!

"Wait—-I know exactly who!"

§RThe audio recording ends.§!*

**"Warwick! Put on the leather jacket!"*** Gets the National Spirit File:Cards.png *“Auditions in the Sisterhood”*

Auditions in the Sisterhood icon**Auditions in the Sisterhood**

* Stability: **+3%**
* Division Recovery Rate: **+5%**

 id### Approaching The Library -- Warwick's Log

*§RA flat tone buzzes for a minute, then the feedback cuts. There's a click§!

"Finally made it to that library I scouted weeks back, but it took more days than originally planned. Fucking aye—the weather got shittier, had to slow down. Didn't need one of my guys freezing to death. I can't afford to drag a corpse home, nor bring myself to carry back a suit without its man. Betsy says she saw something a few nights back—glowing eyes in the thickets. Hope it's just her sleep deprivation."

§RThere's a faint draw of breath—apprehensive, but exhausted moreso.§!

"Thinking about how fast our old Scribes dropped makes me seethe. I think that's the right word to use, I don't know. Don't really care. I'm just angry. ‘Cause Honour was right about some things, I hate to say it, but she was, and by jumping the gun like that, they all proved her point. But Johanna's safe. That's what matters. Ma would be fuming from the grave if it turned out her last two kids couldn't even keep it together."

§RThe audio crackles over a dry chuckle§!

"Whatever. I've rambled about that shit too many times already. Gonna' delete this later if I don't die. Whoever loots this tape recorder off my body, feel free to keep it. I'm not gonna' haunt ya'... maybe. Ha, depends on how I die. Knight Warwick, signing off."

§RThe audio recording ends.§!*

**There's nowhere but forward from here.**
(Nothing)

 id### Something Awry

*Beyond the soft whistles of the wind, the library was silent. Short of a miracle, the books and building itself were fully intact, save for a few holes in the walls.

Warwick plucked a book from a shelf, lightly jostling it in his hands before peeling it open. He scanned the water-stained pages. It's something on lakes—not his specialty, but hey, it could be someone else's. With a shrug he tossed it into his bag.

"Hey, Wick, we've got some trouble," Penn murmured through the comms. His voice was static-ladened— garbled enough to indicate he's deep in.

"That so?" Warwick clicked his tongue, reaching for another book. "Distasteful hospitality or a grubby welcome?

"Neither, just—eugh!" Penn groaned. A muffled zap rang from his end. "Fuckin' big ass worms. Nothing like I've seen before"

"So they're everywhere?" Betsy chimeed with a dry chuckle. "Here I was hoping that was a problem exclusive to my quarter."

"Just know I hand picked each one of you for this expedition. If worms get the better of us—" Warwick scoffed lightly, "Then maybe I need to retire after this."

"Warwick in a rocking chair—all grumbly like a washed out veteran? That I'd like to see," Isolde laughed.

"That's my name, don't wear it out," smirked Warwick, mulling over the next command."*

**"Let's boot these worms, yeah?"*** Trigger country event *“The Husk And The Lost”*
		- Is a core state of our country
		- Has fewer than **7** Infrastructure
	+ Add **3**  Infrastructure
		- Is a core state of our country
		- Has fewer than **8** Infrastructure
	+ Add **2**  Infrastructure

**"Focus on getting the books, first."*** Trigger country event *“The Husk And The Lost”*
* Gain  **50** Political Power
* Gain **+60%** research bonus (*Montana Research Bonus*) (**2** uses) towards:
	+ Industry

 id### The Husk And The Lost

*They found the husk a moment after. Even then, husk was a loose term; nobody had seen anything like it.

"Something new everyday," Betsy murmured.

"I don't like the look of this." Isolde crossed her arms. "We should leave."

"I think we should get acquainted. We'll be making runs here often, and it doesn't look like that's going anywhere," Warwick countered. "I'd rather know if this is a threat now than find out later.

The rest of his Knights glanced at one another, reluctant to move. Sighing, Warwick shoved his bag into Penn's arms and took a step forward.

The husk was malformed like a misshapen bean, or a stiff sack of flour. Strange calcified bark stretched along the surface of the husk. A few giant worms nibbled at its base— suckling on a strange, sap-like substance that oozed from the abrasions. Though, there was something else peculiar; scorched books and torn papers were gathered in a pile of ash. A campfire? But whose?

"WATCH YOUR HEAD!"

At Betsy's shout, Warwick snapped his gun up and fired. The bolt struck the leaping shadow in the shoulder, sending it tumbling to the ground beside the husk. The Knights were quick to surround the attacker, only to find a small, scraggly figure in a Chinese Stealth Suit.

"A child?" Warwick murmured, lifting his finger off the trigger. The child scrambled to the husk, hugging it tightly in a fit of quiet sobs. The Knights turned to Warwick for his call, their weapons still raised.

Warwick clenched his jaw, but his mind was set."*

**"Leave them be."**
(Nothing)

**"Put them out of this misery."**
(Nothing)

 id### Chalk And Kindled Spirits

*Minerva loomed over her desk, flipping through pages of jot notes. In Honour's presence, she attempted a steady posture, but the excited bounce in her leg betrayed her calm countenance.

"Alright, Clouds, what do you think?" Minerva asked, glancing over her shoulder. "‘Come one, come all!' or ‘Get ready to be bewitched?'."

Honour chuckled, "I like the second one."

"Shall her words ring true," smirked Minerva. She continued scribbling. "Grab that container from my bag?" She gestured to a duffle bag slumped in a chair.

Honour obliged. The brass container was sleek—the lid streaked with faint, ashen marks. It was her chalk-container, Honour recognize then. She carried it everywhere. "I always forget to ask," Honour began, giving her the container. "What is this to you?"

"This old thing?" Minerva grinned, "Just something from my raider days." After a light shake, Minerva popped open the lid. She dipped her hand straight in and scooped out a helping of crushed chalk. Minerva rubbed the chalk into her twists, giving them the ashen look that people remembered her for.

"A tradition?" Honour asked.

"One of my oldest. My old gang—the Ashmen—used to do this every morn'. Added some bark to our bite, and it was easy to spot one of our own in big fights." She smacked her hands together. "Heh, we rode our high for so long that some people began to think the white hair meant we were immortals."

"Perhaps they were right?" Honour jested.

"Nah," Minerva leaned over to ruffle Honour's hair— a fond gesture she used to do when they were initiates. Honour stood still, accepting the chalk with a smile. Minerva smirked, "Now they're right."*

**And so we continue on.**
(Nothing)

 id### Song Of A Sister

*A Sister, lover, a friend.

The Path Grows Wild, Unkept

Let Fire Streak The Sky

Asundered Light Warms The Plains

From Ash, May We Find Her Again

A Sister, lover, a friend

The Dawn Is Forged By Her Sword

Molten Words

Molten Earth

Molten Hearts*

**The Dawn Is Forged By Her Sword**
(Nothing)

 id### Letters For The Aftershow

*Dearest Johanna,

At the end of your lovely show, a dilemma was brought to my attention, and thus I left without exchanging my heartfelt thoughts. So, I write to you now before I am again dragged away abruptly.

I adored your setup. You wrangled up your set of actors and stage-crew well—I could see it in their eyes. They loved performing as much as you did directing. I await your next show, as does the rest of your audience.

Regards, Head-In-The-Clouds.

Additionally: Do praise whoever styled Elizeveta's hair and costume in the final act—I hardly recognized her!

Thanks so much for the praise, Sentinel! It means a lot coming from you. I'm still in the studio, but the power is flickering, so please pay no mind to my crooked lines or misspelling! Apparently, Warwick flung his leather jacket at such a precarious angle that he struck a stage light, and then that stage light fell, and that is where I'll spare you the intricacies

The feedback was overwhelming, and I've already started to think about what we could do next. Perhaps we could talk about it on a later note when you're not busy?

Thanks again!

--Johanna*

**And so the evening came to a close...*** Replace the National Spirit File:Cards.png *“Auditions in the Sisterhood”* with the National Spirit File:Cards.png *“Sisterhood Aftershow”*

Sisterhood Aftershow icon**Sisterhood Aftershow**

* Stability: **+6%**
* Division Recovery Rate: **+7%**

 id### A Colourful Evening

*The major town square of Fairview was bustling, even in the later evening. While all was calm—citizens with their late errands and the Knights of the Sisterhood walking their laxed patrols—three cloaked ne'er do wells scurried through the streets.

"Remind me why I'm dressed like this?" Warwick whispered harshly. "Actually, I'll do you one better; what the hell are we carrying?"

Johanna snickered softly beside him. "C'mon, Wick. Don't you like a little adventure?"

"C'mon kids, less questions, more walking," Thrift gestured. He had approached them with two things; a bag full of small, paper rockets and a vague idea behind a giddy grin. "And let's just say I promised Silfer a night show."

Johanna gasped lightly. "Honour's ‘round the corner! Quick!"

Warwick blinked. "Wait, so Johanna knows what's going on and I don't?"

"No time, get to it!" Thrift said, chucking a matchbox to the twins. Afterwards, he dumped the contents from his bag and began setting up the little rockets—their wicks all lit by the time their Sentinel rounded the corner

In a flash, the paper rockets shot up to the far reaches of the night sky. With a crackling pop, fantastic colours from the Sisterhood flag streaked the air, fizzling out like a star as the streaks arched down towards the earth...*

**Though unauthorized, the fireworks enraptured all its onlookers. Even the Sentinel herself.**
(Nothing)

 id### Enacting Brotherhood Authority

*Our reports indicate that this region is rich in old world relics, with even more caps stashed around and within the local residencies. As the region has seen little trade, and these people are isolated, it may be in our best interests to take what we can...*

**We took just enough.*** Lose **5%** Stability Stability
* Set temporary variable caps\_to\_add to 150
* Scripted Effect: add\_caps=yes

**We took what we wanted.*** Lose **10%** Stability Stability
* Set temporary variable caps\_to\_add to 200
* Scripted Effect: add\_caps=yes

**We took everything that we saw.*** Lose **20%** Stability Stability
* Set temporary variable caps\_to\_add to 350
* Scripted Effect: add\_caps=yes

**We took nothing, and the locals were grateful for it.*** Gain **5%** Stability Stability
* Gets the National Spirit File:Steel civilians.png *“We Took Nothing”* for 120 days

We Took Nothing icon**We Took Nothing**

* ```
country_resource_water = 6
```
* Division Defense on core territory: **+5%**

 id### Mendoza's Casket: The Stockpile

*Though the inside of the station was dangerous, and some soldiers were wounded, they managed to bring back some of the treasure before it collapsed. What did they manage to secure?*

**Power armor!*** **150** units of File:United States of America.png United States of America power\_armor\_equipment\_4 is added to the national Stockpile

**Energy weapons!*** **400** units of File:United States of America.png United States of America energy\_equipment\_2 is added to the national Stockpile

 id### Turning The Montana Chapter

*Patrocolus rallied his platoon outside. They dragged Johanna from the bunker and threw her to the ground. The denizens bristled at the display, but without adequate weapons, they could do nothing but watch. Honour stood quietly on one side of Patrocolus, Knight Warwick stationed at the other.

"Loyalty is a fragile thing," Patrocolus began. "Paladin Johanna, for your violations against the Chains That Bind, we shall grant you mercy from disgrace. A swift death will do you well."

Johanna knelt before the Elder. Her posture was stiff, bracing for the supposed inevitable. She raised her hands slowly to take off her helm. Like her armor, her face sported patches of dust and grime.

But unlike any disgraced Paladin that Honour had seen, Johanna held Patrocolus' gaze fiercely. The rogue Paladin didn't believe she was dead, not yet.

At the sight of his sister's face, Warwick's conviction turned to hesitance, and quickly did that hesitance turn to doubt. He glanced at Patrocolus. "Elder, I—"

"Will speak not a word," Patrocolus snapped. He shot his hand up—the Brotherhood awaited the call.*

**...*** Trigger country event *“Turning The Montana Chapter Cont.”*

 id### Turning The Montana Chapter Cont.

*"And you will do no such thing,"" Honour interjected, raising her gun to his temple.

"Take point!" Minerva shouted. The Sisters amidst the crowd raised their weapons against Patrocolus', outnumbering them two-to one

Patrocolus closed his eyes, smiling. "This reads like a bad joke," he scoffed. "Betraying me at an execution for treason. Surely, you see the irony, Sentinel?"

"There is no irony in unjust murder." Honour glanced around the crowd. "From hereon, this Chapter turns to me. But unlike you, Patrocolus, I do not believe in senseless execution. Leave and return to the Midwest. Stay if you wish to fight for a better cause. I will not extend this mercy twice."

"I won't fight you, Honour— but even you know you just made a grave mistake," he glowered. "They'll come for you, too, just like we came for her."

"They are welcomed to," Honour smiled. "And when they do, we will show them how we greet tyranny.""*

**Patrocolus and his Brotherhood left without another word.*** Gain **+40%** (unrecognized string "elites" for Template:Icon) Elites party popularity
* Set the ruling party to (unrecognized string "Elites" for Template:Icon) Elites
* Gets the National Spirit File:Sisterhood chaos.png *“Sisterhood Schism!”*

Sisterhood Schism! icon**Sisterhood Schism!**

* Research Speed: **−10%**
* Division Defense on core territory: **−10%**
* Reinforce Rate: **−2%**
* **Infantry Equipment**:
	+ £production\_cost Production Cost: **−10%**
	+ Soft attack: **−15%**
	+ Hard attack: **−15%**
* Set cosmetic tag to MNC\_sororibus\_ferro
* Lose **5%** Stability Stability

**But in a way, he was right. We had them depart without their gear.*** Gain **+40%** (unrecognized string "elites" for Template:Icon) Elites party popularity
* Set the ruling party to (unrecognized string "Elites" for Template:Icon) Elites
* Gets the National Spirit File:Sisterhood chaos.png *“Sisterhood Schism!”*

Sisterhood Schism! icon**Sisterhood Schism!**

* Research Speed: **−10%**
* Division Defense on core territory: **−10%**
* Reinforce Rate: **−2%**
* **Infantry Equipment**:
	+ £production\_cost Production Cost: **−10%**
	+ Soft attack: **−15%**
	+ Hard attack: **−15%**
* Set cosmetic tag to MNC\_sororibus\_ferro
* Lose **15%** Stability Stability
* **100** units of File:United States of America.png United States of America power\_armor\_equipment\_midwest is added to the national Stockpile

 id### Johanna's Confliction

*Johanna pulled the rustic faucet lever. With an ancient creak, liquid gushed from the head. She and Honour watched as the crooked stream poured like tar, then mud, and then, for the first time in what must have been centuries, the water lightened into something crystal-clear.

Eagerly, Johanna filled her canteen with the clean water and downed a mighty gulp. "God damn," she sighed whimsically. "Still tastes kinda shitty, but it's drinkable, and that's really all I can ask for."

Honour patted her back. "That is the power of collaborative effort."

She nodded slowly, glancing at her canteen. "And I was starting to think I'd never see this in my lifetime."

"The water?"

"Yeah, that and the, uh—" she stumbled on her wording. "And us. The Sisters."

"The Sisters fight for one another," Honour said. "We can't let other people decide our fates."

Johanna brought the canteen to her face and tapped it lightly against her forehead. "When the cavalry found me, I was ready to go down in fire. ‘Cause that's how my mom went out. Granted, what I was planning was more like a reckless fall than a glorious end, but I thought to myself; If I was going to die, I'd do it like a Pentecoste—" she drew a slow breath. "But I didn't do any of that. I couldn't even get Patrocolus to listen to me..."*

**"You're still plenty of Pentecoste to me."*** Trigger country event *“Johanna's Confliction Cont.”*

 id### Johanna's Confliction Cont.

*Johanna chuckled weakly, "It doesn't feel that way. I've done so many things my mom would have hated. I bet she's scowling right now from her grave."

"I mean it, Johanna," Honour reaffirmed. "You let your heart guide you. That is not an easy task. The Codex can paint the world in black and white. But your heart—what you feel—that is the gray that sees beyond fake boundaries. It thinks about who gets hurt, which stories we tell, who gets forgotten."

Johanna stared at her muddied reflection in the canteen.

"Had you not ran off with everything, the people in this bunker wouldn't be where they are now." Honour glanced down to her. "Your mother would have been proud of you. Her heart was gray like yours.""

"That's such a weird way to put it," Johanna huffed, but her face softened with a smile. "Thanks, Honour."

Honour nodded. "Of course.""*

**Soon she will come to understand what I mean.**
(Nothing)

 id### Paladin Hayman's Strife

*"And before you offer, Honour," Paladin Hayman chuckled gravely. "I ain't here to be your friend. Give us that girl and what she stole, then we'll be gone."

"Fall back, Paladin Hayman," Honour glowered. "Lest you wish this soil to be your final resting place."

"What happened to this mercy not being extended twice?" Hayman scoffed. "Nothing but lies, Honour. Patrocolus was an idiot to buy into your bluff, and an even greater one to have brought you along."

Paladin Hayman was unrelenting, as were her Knights. All of whom were not Patrocolus'. They dawned a skewed version of the Midwestern armour--almost like a mockery of our own. The plating was crooked and rusted, as if sealed in place with hasty craftsmanship. At the first scout's notice, Honour had gathered anyone available in the vicinity to intervene.

"Just put your fucking gun down, Hayman!" Minerva snapped.

"There's three sorts of sorry bastards that aren't worth my listening ear; raiders, fiends, and traitors," Hayman dismissed, aiming her gun. "And that ain't changing. Not here. Not ever."

She fired the first shot. The skirmish lasted no more than twenty minutes. The Sisters struck down Hayman and her platoon with a single casualty.

Minerva inspected her body with a tut. "Should've listened to us when she had the chance." She reached over to Hayman's helm, furrowing her brows as it wouldn't budge. "Is this sealed shut?" She cursed, glancing to Honour. "What now, Clouds?"*

**"Bury their bodies like this. Let them rest with their steel."*** Gain **10%** War support War Support
* Gain **5%** Stability Stability

**"Take their gear. We'll make better use of it."*** Lose **5%** War support War Support
* Lose **5%** Stability Stability
* **100** units of File:United States of America.png United States of America power\_armor\_equipment\_midwest is added to the national Stockpile

 id### On The Coneflower Hill

*As the evening approached—the sun burning out under the cascading lavender skyline—Honour found Warwick atop a nearby hill that overlooked the valley. He was by his lonesome, swallowed in the thickets of prairie coneflowers.

"Enjoying the flowers?" Honour asked, creeping up to his side. Gently, she plucked a small yellow flower from a thin stem.

In her presence, Warwick hunched forward. He was out of his power armor. A strange sight, indeed, for she had never seen him leave shelter without it. "Yeah, they're nice. They don't have these back at home," he finally said, pulling his knees closer to his chest. "What can I do for you, Sentinel?"

"One for your thoughts?" She offered him the flower head. "I see you are troubled."

Scoffing lighty, Warwick dismissed her hand. "I just threw away my whole life—everything I worked for, what I stood for," he chuckled dryly. "So, forgive me, Sentinel, if I'm not in a talking mood."

"Yet, you speak to me now." Honour shrugged, flicking the flower aside. "You made the right choice."

Warwick scowled, "The other meant execution under grounds of cowardice. There wasn't much choice."*

**"I saw how you reacted when they brought Johanna out."*** Trigger country event *“On The Coneflower Hill Cont.”*

 id### On The Coneflower Hill Cont.

*"I had months to get myself together. Everyone's eyes were on me when Johanna first took everything and ran. This was my one chance to clear our family name, but when I saw her face—" he stopped himself, sighing.

Honour patted his shoulder gently. "Conviction is a fickle thing. So easily does it unravel when we're forced down a crossroad. But in that moment— where we must choose between family and duty— do we set ourselves down a better path."

Warwick sighed again— more exhausted than indignant. "The old man was right. You've got pretty words, Honour," he said, adjusting his posture up-right. "I just hope they'll still mean something in the long run."

"They will." Honour nodded firmly.*

**For this path is a new flame of beginning.**
(Nothing)

 id### As Fate Wills

*Too engrossed in her log, Honour spared no glance to the sound of her chamber door opening. "Yes?" She asked, setting down her journal.

Minerva slammed an Enclave helm onto the desk, the side of it scorched and nearly molten. "Check it," Minerva said, jabbing her finger against the helm.

Honour narrowed her eyes. "Minerva, even you know this joke is in poor taste."

Minerva shook her head, her tone darkening, "This ain't from Chicago, Clouds. Johanna's squad ran into this one up near the mountains. Said there were more, but she wasn't looking to draw out a big fight.

Honour's breath caught in her throat. She glanced at Minerva, then back to the helm, taking a closer inspection at what felt like a beheaded wraith from the past. "Any casualties?"

"With both Pentecostes on a squad? Just a few wounded," Minerva smirked dryly. "And here I thought Montana was a clean slate," she sighed. "What now?

"We prepare." Honour squared her shoulders. "The Midwest threw us down in the face of the Chicago Enclave when skirmishes reached their high. Where they could not bother to expend manpower, the Sisters were there to cover every time."

Minerva nodded, crossing her arms. "The ones in Chicago holed up with their gangs in the city, these ones take to the mountains. I reckon they're not the same."

"Enclave is Enclave," Honour said firmly. "Who would the Sisters be if not having fought this sort of war before?" She sighed, "Though I tire of needless death. I'll prepare a messenger first, then we will think about the fires."

Minerva chuckled with a nod, preparing to dawn her helm, "Sisters stand strong, huh?"*

**Sisters, stand strong.*** Custom effect tooltip: §PWe will request that [MCA.GetName] surrender themselves to our might!§!
			* Exists
	+ MacArthur:
		- Trigger country event *“A Letter To MacArthur”*
		- [SCOPE]Our country
			* Scripted Effect: grant\_wargoals\_on\_core\_states\_of\_prev\_force\_ai\_war=yes

 id### The Rain Keeps Me Warm

*I was born Head-in-the-Clouds in the land of Ark-And-Saw, where the mountains were drowned in fog. My mother, Whisper-Of-Rain, was my tribe's Star Gazer. She read and recorded the fate written in the stars. To her, every speckle of the night sky—from the moon to strings of stardust fire—had a purpose.

I never saw her again after the Brotherhood stole me. Alone in an unknown world of steel and battery, my mother's wisdom kept me grounded. It kept me loved. It reminded me to love.

And without her, I would not be standing here with my Sisters of Steel in these Northern reaches. We've vanquished smoke and mirrors, fought raiders and wraiths from our pasts and, more importantly, we'd forged a home for all people alike in infamy and family.

So, I devote this to you, mother, and to all who stood beside me. When a day comes where I perish—withered or bloodied—I rest easy, knowing that I was loved.

And that I loved.*

**And that was enough to build a world.**
(Nothing)

 id### A Walk in Cloud's Haven

*Honour noticed two things on her stroll around Cloud's Haven. The first was gratifying; the Sisterhood effort to refurbish the capital was coming along smoothly. The second was strange, albeit pleasant; everyone around her adorned charming colours, namely, in the form of floral brooches.

Floral brooches she didn't have. So, after inquiring a few passersby, Honour set off to amend that.

Honour located one of Thrift's older workshops and poked her head through the door. "Hello?" She called.

Johanna and Minerva were hunched over a workbench. There were three distinct piles on the table; one for flowers, one for patches, and the third for completed brooches.

Johanna jolted at Honour's presence. "Honour!"

Warwick, lounging on a couch in the corner of the room, looked up from his book. "Oh, Honour's here."

"Yeah, thanks for the look-out," Johanna grumbled flatly, chucking a half-finished brooch at her brother. The brooch fell short half way across the room.

Honour approached the workbench. "What's all this?" She smiled, picking up a flower from the table.

"Uh— just a little passion project. Originally they were for the new recruits and volunteers to boost morale, but then I got carried away." Johanna blinked, slightly flustered as she awkwardly pushed four brooches towards Honour. "Ah, I couldn't decide what brooch would suit you more so I made a few."

"My," Honour beamed at the brooches. "Well... I think I already have a favourite."*

**A beautiful violet.*** [SCOPE]One random owned state:
	+ Add production of **3** (unrecognized string "energy" for Template:Icon) Energy

**An illustrious jasmine.*** [SCOPE]One random owned state:
	+ Add production of **3** (unrecognized string "water" for Template:Icon) Water

**A vibrant sunflower.*** [SCOPE]One random owned state:
	+ Add production of **3** (unrecognized string "metal" for Template:Icon) Scrap Metal

**An inviting primrose.*** [SCOPE]One random owned state:
	+ Add production of **3** (unrecognized string "composites" for Template:Icon) Composite Materials

 id### A Letter To MacArthur

*To our neighbours in different steel, heed these words carefully, for this will be your only warning.

Lay down your arms and surrender. We are unlike our Brotherhood brethren. We are something more. We are the Sisterhood of Steel; a friend to all and the end to tyrants.

We believe in fair unity—in the relinquishment of needless violence or selfish claims—so that is why we extend this offer to you. Join us to build a greater home and future by our side. Cave into insolence and I promise that we will bury your remains in the mountain.

The choice is yours

—Sentinel Honour.*

**A fair agreement.*** Montana Chapter:
	+ Annex  MacArthur (troops not transferred)

**We shall never surrender to any opposition!*** Montana Chapter:
	+ Declares a *Annex* war against  MacArthur

 id### Words From A Sister

*The nearby 'Sisterhood of Steel' has requested for us to relinquish authority to them for the betterment of our peoples. While some believe this is a maddening request, others are seeing the benefits of Brotherhood protection... However, they may not take 'no' as an answer.*

**Ad Victoriam.*** Montana Chapter:
	+ Havre becomes a puppet of the current scope
* Gets the National Spirit File:Room to grow.png *“Sisterhood Oversight”*

Sisterhood Oversight icon**Sisterhood Oversight**

* Division Defense on core territory: **+5%**
* Division Organization: **+5%**
* Division Attrition: **−5%**
* ```
special_forces_min = 20
```

**Death to Tyrants!*** Havre:
	+ Montana Chapter:
		- Scripted Effect: grant\_wargoals\_on\_core\_states\_of\_prev=yes

 id### From Elizaveta With Love: Sentinel Honour

*One of our newest neighbours and arrivals in the region is the Sisters of Steel, who have come seeking to aid us in our mission of restoring the love and happiness throughout Montana. Their leader, Honour, is sympathetic to our cause.*

**Let's seal the deal!*** Montana Chapter:
	+ Ruminators becomes a puppet of the current scope
* Gain **15%** Stability Stability
* Custom effect tooltip: We will become a §Mpuppet§! of the §PSisters of Steel§!, and gain more benefits later!

 id### Steady She Goes

*Patrocolus rallied his platoon outside. They dragged Johanna from the bunker and threw her to the ground. The Brotherhood formed a circle around the rogue Paladin to keep out any unwanted intervention. To one side of Patrocolus was Sentinel Honour, on the other was Knight Warwick.

"Loyalty is a fragile thing," Patrocolus began. "Paladin Johanna, for your violations against the Chains That Bind, we shall grant you mercy from disgrace. A swift death will do you well."

Johanna knelt before the Elder. Her posture was stiff, bracing for the supposed inevitable. She raised her hands slowly to take off her helm. Like her armor, her face sported patches of dust and grime.

Warwick faltered at the sight of his sister's face. "Elder, I—"

"Will speak not a word," Patrocolus snapped. He could not blame Warwick; witnessing family die was never easy, but there was no time for second thoughts—a violation was a violation. He shot his hand up, glancing at Paladin Hayman with a nod...*

**...*** Trigger country event *“Alas, Poor Johanna”*

 id### Alas, Poor Johanna

*Hayman clicked her gun to Honour's temple. "And don't you think about it," she sneered.

Honour dropped her gun. Minerva raised hers in response, shouting a word of command, but to her surprise and risible concern, only a fraction of the Sisters took a stance.

"Did you really think I wasn't going to find out about this?" Patrocolus sighed, "Betraying me at an execution for treason. Surely, you see the irony, Sentinel?"

"There is no irony in unjust murder." Honour glared back.

Patrocolus' brow darkened. He balled his fist, but all he could do was stare back at her, glowering. She couldn't be acting more childish about the situation.

Hayman scoffed. "If that's how you feel, then maybe we can make it room for two."

"No," Patrocolus said sternly, leaning towards Honour. "First. How many more of you are there?"

"More than you had ever cared to know," Honour spat back. Even now, she acted as though she was immune to the world.

Hayman glanced back to Patrocolus. He nodded back. "Get on with it." Hayman shouted. And, like that, Paladin Johanna was no more.*

**Dark things were on the horizon.*** Gets the National Spirit File:Sisterhood chaos.png *“Sisters, Shattered”*

Sisters, Shattered icon**Sisters, Shattered**

* Division Defense on core territory: **−15%**
* Division Attack: **−10%**
* Sentinel Honour:
	+ Retires

 id### Chains That Bind

*Patrocolus found Warwick sat outside the bunker, watching orange-laden violets dance around the sunset by his lonesome. Approaching, he crossed his arms in a friendly manner, trying to share the view. "Knight Warwick," he nodded as their eyes met, "What's on your mind?" Patrocolus asked, glancing down at the Knight. "It's not like you to be so sullen."

The knight was silent for several lasting moments. Taking a deep breath, he turned to look the Elder in full. "I just thought it'd be easier, you know?"

Patrocolus narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Warwick's gaze fell, and his tone grew hushed. "I don't blame you for not knowing. We didn't talk much." he drew a long, wistful sigh. "She was my sister— Johanna, I mean. I had months to think about it on the way here, and it still... Well, it still wasn't easy." Warwick mumbled, taking a long sip of his canteen

"It was your duty. It had to be done," Patrocolus said, sighing. "Valna, I know, would have understood."*

**...*** Trigger country event *“Chains That Bind Cont.”*

 id### Patrocolus' Thoughts

*The mission in Montana was complete. The bunker had been secured, the traitor Johanna was no more, and now, the Sisters were extinguished— or, at the very least, on their last legs. Yet, the longer I have remained with my detachment in Montana, I've heard more and more disturbing things from the locals: a King of Roaches to the east, a nuclear silo occupied by heathenous cultists, scant rumors and legends of an Enclave splinter in the mountains... The list went on and on.

If even half of these rumors are true, then that means the tranquility of Montana doesn't have long for this world. These people have little to no means of defending themselves against such domineering threats. Of course, naturally, securing the land should be paramount, though I know it not to be an overnight experience. The schisms and pains we have experienced thus far are too many to count and so we must adapt to our new environment.

My assessment, as is, is quite simple:*

**It was time for a new 'Glorious Purpose.'*** Gain **5%** War support War Support

 id### What Was Left Behind

*Patrocolus nursed a bottle of whiskey as he stared at the mural, his heart shrinking with every lingering gaze. He wasn't sure when the townsfolk had made it; whether it was before or after the expedition arrived. Taking another swig, he stared directly at her once more. Though it pained him to admit it, they most certainly nailed the biting hope in Johanna's eyes.

"Are you happy?" Honour would ask if she were here, and he would answer "No. I'm not." Her comments, while snappy, were poignant. She was his biggest critic, in the end, but she helped him see what he couldn't. Now that she was gone, well... He had himself.

Patrocolus followed the code. He did exactly as he was told, as he had all his life. Johanna had betrayed that same code, and yet her memory was immortalised. Not by her crimes, but by vibrant colours and painted flowers...

Patrocolus couldn't help but wonder what he'd leave behind when died—what would his legacy be, if anything? "Whiskey's a tricky thing," he then thought with a dry smile.

"Elder," Hayman's voice called from behind, "Are you doing okay?"

Patrocolus sighed, frustrated that he had allowed Hayman to sneak up on him. "Yes. I'm quite alright," he said, shovelling the near-empty whiskey bottle out of sight. "What do you need, Hayman?"

"Just checking up on you, Elder. You've been here quite awhile."

Patrocolus cocked a half-grin at that, his hollow chest filled even if only halfway. Sometimes, all you could count on in the world was loyalty. Hayman was still with him, and maybe that's all he needed. "I've just been thinking on what to do with this mural."

Hayman nodded, crossing her arms at the artwork. "I say tear it down. The less martyrs the better."

Patrocolus sighed, glancing at the mural once more...*

**No, we keep it. Let her memory rest peacefully.*** Gain  **100** Political Power
* Gain **5%** Stability Stability

**You're right. We can't have any more rebel-fodder.*** Gain Army experience **25** Army Experience
* Gain **10%** War support War Support

 id### Appropriate Incentive

*Hayman and Patrocolus walked side-by-side through the bunker halls, both of their brows stern. The Sisterhood's betrayal had turned a lot of heads down, and even more to the side.

"We can't ignore it, Patrocolus," Hayman slapped her hand down on the Elder's shoulder, "They need to be dealt with."

"I know." Patrocolus said flatly. "I was a fool to even bring them along."

Hayman shrugged, "We tried to warn you."

"I know," Patrocolus bit the inside of his cheek, crossing his arms. "and I'm not making this mistake again." he said, pulling out a piece of paper and scribbling an errant message upon it. Stamping it with the Brotherhood sigil, he practically threw it at Hayman. "Take this little carrot on a stick I've thrown together. Have the scribes print as many as possible and hang them around outside and inside the bunker."

Hayman glanced at the paper— a bounty had been opened for every self-proclaimed ‘Sister of Steel.' Smirking, she looked back to Patrocolus. "Ad Victoriam, Elder."

"Ad Victoriam." Patrocolus repeated back, watching with an empty gaze as Hayman exited the room.*

**Ad Victoriam.*** Custom effect tooltip: §YHayman§! will be available as a §MUnit Leader§!!
* Gain  **150** Political Power

 id### The Greatest American Evil

*The Elder's gaze whipped up as Hayman entered the chamber, her already-heavy stomps doubled from their usual fury. She stormed up to the desk, slamming down something that Patrocolus thought they had left behind in Chicago.

It was an Enclave soldier's helmet. Judging by the plasma burns on its side, it was recently scarred— no doubt by Brotherhood personnel. With narrowed eyes he looked to Hayman. The Paladin nodded back.

Patrocolus sighed quietly. Placing his hands on his temple, he stared back into the cracked lenses of the dead man's helm as though it were a demon manifested: a monster who he thought only existed in his nightmares. "How many?"

"We don't know yet." Hayman rolled her tongue around the inside of her mouth, her face locked into a sneer. "All we know is this one came from the mountains."

Patrocolus glanced between Hayman's tired visage and the helmet. "We'll need to be ready."

"Understood, Elder." Hayman saluted. "What are your orders?"

"Send it west." he demanded, jamming his finger into the helmet's lens. "Find a courier, and send it west. I want them to know we're on our way."

Hayman half-smirked. "Ad Victoriam, Elder." she said, taking the helmet and exiting.*

**May We Know No Fear.*** Gain Command power **25** Command Power
* Gain **10%** War support War Support

 id### Looking Over A Shoulder

*Minerva had grown a recluse since the Sisterhood break-off. But she kept to herself-- never any bite to back up her bark. It was only on a matter of when, Patrocolus wondered, that she would snap. So at the edge of dawn, where per miraculous luck would Minerva find him alone, she drew her gun on him. And Patrocolus, who was none surprised, instantaneously snapped his own gun up in response.

"Don't make me a murderer, Minerva." Patrocolus quietly demanded, his finger gently pressed against the trigger of his rifle.

"Make you a murderer?" she scoffed, "Tell that to Johanna."

"You know that's not fair. Don't forget, we were here to deal with her."

"To deal with her?" Her eye twitched with a maddened craze. "You old bastard! I saw it when we got there, you saw it when we got there. She saved these people! She helped them get a better life—"

Hayman fired first.

Patrocolus watched as Minerva fell backwards, a perfect, burnt-out hole in her forehead releasing black smoke. The smell of burnt skin was in the air.

"Finally, some silence," Hayman said, lighting a cigar as she rounded the corner to reveal herself fully.

"Don't speak ill of the dead," Patrocolus glanced over to Hayman.

Hayman shrugged. "We were all thinking it."

Patrocolus sighed, inspecting Minerva's corpse with a tut.*

**"At least that's the last of our loose ends."*** Gain **10%** War support War Support

 id### Steel Reigns in Montana

*In the span of a few hours, MacArthur Air Force Base was infiltrated by Brotherhood forces and detonated from within by an I.E.D. designed by none other than Knight Thrift. For better or for worse, the few survivors and regional stragglers now answered to the Brotherhood's authority.

Elder Patrocolus, who was present at the aftermath, had this to say when prompted for a statement: "MacArthur was a den of devils that got exactly what it deserved. As for our own, I couldn't be prouder of what we have achieved. (...) It is in service of Steel and guardianship of one's Brothers that each man finds his purpose. My friends, stand with your Brothers. Guard them, guide them. And in each of them find purpose." Though brief, his words are said to have reinvigorated the exhausted Brotherhood personnel-- and turned many of their minds to the rest of the region...*

**The Brotherhood prevails.*** [Scope]**MacArthur AFB** (656):
	+ Add production of **6** (unrecognized string "metal" for Template:Icon) Scrap Metal
* Gain  **250** Political Power

 id### Chains That Bind Cont.

*"Do you know what the last thing my mother said to me before she died? 'Take care of Johanna'." Warwick glanced at Patrocolus expectantly

Though he stood as tall and valiant as ever, Patrocolus felt that same knot in his stomach. "It doesn't get easier."

"What?"

"Living with it." Patrocolus bit his cheek, glancing off into the night. Patrocolus sighed, rubbing his own neck for a moment. "It just doesn't get any easier, Warwick. Eventually, you just become numb to it, and it becomes a part of who you are." he patted Warwick's shoulder. "When I was a boy, I saw my father, a negligent do-nothing raider, executed by a Brotherhood soldier. I lie, of course, and tell people I was born into this whole thing— but I wasn't." he rolled his tongue with a thoughtful click, "I still see it when I shut my eyes. Not every wound will heal, Warwick... And that's okay." he said, sitting up and walking off— leaving the Knight alone with the stars.*

**Take Note, Then, Of Your Chains, Brothers...*** Gain **5%** Stability Stability

 id### Johanna's Journey

*As Patrocolus and his expedition mustered themselves for the long road ahead, Paladin Johanna continued her own, forging a path to Montana with the ciphers and map close to her person at all times.

Through what her wit could not break, her power armored fist did. She forded rivers by riding across scrapped floats, traveled with caravans through desolate woods, and even helped a young yao guai out of a tree on the way to Montana.

When she arrived to the bunker, Fort Verity, she was surprised to see it wasn't vacated like reports said. Under canopies of thin veils, people were tending to rows of spouting crops. Befuddled, Johanna proceeded with...*

**Her might!*** Trigger country event *“Hastily Approaching Fort Verity”*

**Her wits!*** Trigger country event *“Cautiously Approaching Fort Verity”*

 id### Hastily Approaching Fort Verity

*Tanya watched the stranger's approach. Between the hairlines of her scope, she could make out the walking form of Power Armour–lagged like it hadn't slept for days yet still moving with the efficiency of a predator and the confidence of a successful one at that. Tanya clenched her jaw. More bad news for Verity?

The last few months have been nothing but a slog to survive. A broken water purifier, prowling raiders, a scavenger party to never return, hunger and radiation sickness… this sad little bunker had more than its share of problems. Hopestill, they called her: she who carries on despite the odds. More than anything these days, however, the nickname felt disingenuous. Still, she had promised Katriona, and she kept her promises.

She could make out the trespasser's plasma rifle in the distance, ready at a moment's notice.

"Stand back," Tanya called to the denizens of Fort Verity armed with bent shovels hunkered down behind sandbags. That damned munitions trader never came back. "And you—" she narrowed her gaze to the armoured individual. "Turn back. There's nothing of value here."

"This bunker's supposed to be empty," the armoured woman said, her gaze wandering to their rows of damp soil. "How long have you all been set up here?"

"Why don't you lower your weapons first, then we talk?"

There was a twitch in the armoured woman's shoulders. Tanya readied a shot, praying she'd be able to pull the trigger first.. And then, to her surprise, the trespasser chucked her weapon to the ground.

Then, the trespasser glanced up and replied with something more surprising:*

**"Let me help you."*** Gain **5%** Stability Stability
* [Scope]**Fairview** (1023):
	+ Add production of **6** (unrecognized string "metal" for Template:Icon) Scrap Metal
* Trigger country event *“Nothing Good Lasts Forever”*

 id### Cautiously Approaching Fort Verity

*Tanya watched the stranger's approach. Between the hairlines of her scope, she could make out the walking form of Power Armour–lagged like it hadn't slept for days yet still moving with the efficiency of a predator and the confidence of a successful one at that. Tanya clenched her jaw. More bad news for Verity?

Fine with her, but she kept her rifle pointed at the trespasser. Not like they would know they were clean out of ammunition. After all, they've had their fair share of troubles in the last few months. A broken water purifier, prowling raiders, a scavenger party to never return, hunger and radiation sickness…. Hopestill, they called her: she who carries on despite the odds. More than anything these days, however, the nickname felt disingenuous. Still, she had promised Katriona, and she kept her promises.

To her surprise, the armoured trespasser shucked off their plasma rifle—the weapon hit the ground with a static rattle. "I'm not looking for trouble, just answers!" A woman's voice filtered through the armour.

"There's nothing here for you!" Tanya called back. "Turn back, trespasser."

The armoured trespasser took off her helm, revealing a young woman; her eyes brimming with a sort of hope Tanya hadn't seen in a while. "I am Paladin Johanna," the woman announced. "And I have something that can help you all."

Tanya reeled back from her scope. A Paladin? And to her surprise, the woman smiled with an offer:*

**"I can make this garden green!"*** Gain **5%** Stability Stability
* [Scope]**Fairview** (1023):
	+ Add production of **2** (unrecognized string "water" for Template:Icon) Water
	+ Add production of **3** (unrecognized string "circuitry" for Template:Icon) Circuitry
* Trigger country event *“Nothing Good Lasts Forever”*

 id### Nothing Good Lasts Forever

*Johanna's peace did not last. Just as expected, the Brotherhood came knocking, Patrocolus' iron fist demanding the townsfolk release Johanna to them under threat of forceful seizure. Despite the protests of the residents, Patrocolus knew justice had to be served: Johanna would meet her end, righteously so, by Brotherhood hands.

But Honour did not see it the same way. Johanna was Brotherhood, and more importantly, she was family. The Sisters conspired amongst each other, forming a ploy to undermine Patrocolus' authority...*

**The sisters secrecy won out.*** Complete national focus File:Mnc tarot sister.png *“Honour's Plan”*

**Patrocolus had eyes everywhere.*** Complete national focus File:Mnc tarot patty.png *“Patrocolus' Plan”*