Hello all. This fan fic will be updated weekly, maybe even twice a week if I'm feeling squirrely. It will chronicle The Lightbringer, a Cleveland Vault Dweller in 2277 that rose to challenge the conflict between invading Enclave forces from Chicago, the Midwestern Brotherhood of Steel, and the native tribes over the steelyards of East Cleveland, now known as Eve City. It's been two hundred years since the bombs dropped. The Perry power plant was destroyed by tactical nuclear strike, poisoning the Mississippi river & Lake Erie with radiation. Since that time, several tribes have emerged. Some vault dwellers looking to make their way in this new unforgiving world, some who were unfortunate enough to get caught in the fallout scavenge the wastes as ghouls. However, amongst all the life in the Eastern Commonwealth, there is only one group that has never had to breath the harsh air or fight for their right to live. Until now. VAULT 93, one of the last vaults still sealed in the wastes. It's community is more of a family. There have been few crimes, and most are pacifists and are ever loyal to the teachings of Overseer and priest, Father McMellin. In his vault, he teaches what he calls "honor, respect & selflessness". Most hear his words and do not question, out of fear of the tyrant who poses as a gentle old man. Fifteen years ago, when a group arose who wanted to leave the vault, the Overseer had them "neutralized" and marked them as blasphemers & heretics. Years have passed since the "cleansing" of the Vault, and the Overseer is in his older days. His son, Marthias is to take command of the Vault in less than a week. Known for his sharp tongue & cruel nature, Marthias will be a worse tyrant than his religious father. However, you won't be around to see it. You awake in your room to a banging on your door. You are comfortable at first until you hang your feet off the edge of the bed. Cold concrete & lead greet your warm toes. A shiver courses up your spine as you walk to your door. But you are quickly warmed up again by the embrace of your friend, Paris. A short girl no older than 19 with dirty blonde hair and freckles, Paris has been your friend since childhood. She's kind and funny, with the smartass sense of humor you only find in old comedians like Rodney Dangerfield. "A little early for all the hugging, isn't it?" You say mid-yawn "What did you empty a load in your drawers?" Paris says with a grin You flip her the bird as you zip up your vault suit and exit your room/ The two of you begin your stroll around the halls until you notice the crumpled pan flt in Paris' hand. "What's with the brochure?" In a mocking tone she says "It's an invitation to the inauguration of Overlord Marthias McMellin, leader of the free people of Vault 93! Hard to believe that moron is actually getting power in this place." You look at Paris as you speak "I don't want to think about it. The last thing we need is a egotistical snob telling us the way th--" You fall flat on your back as you run into none other than Marthias himself. "You should watch your tongue, feeb. Lest you find yourself among the heretics." Marthias barks as he walks over you and around the corner "Miserable prick" You mumble as you pick yourself up from the floor, brushing the dust from your suit To be continued.