Fallout 4 Outcasts Novels & Stories

Daniel walked for hours around the city. He was determined to go anywhere other than back to the Bostonian. He had so many things running through his head. His father sends Wyatt to see if he can be saved and stop the war that both sides have been waiting for. Elizabeth and him having a son and he’s eleven, and his life's in the same danger as Elizabeths. Daniel just wanted to walk away from all of this. How he wished that it had been Wyatt that was Forsaken instead of him. He felt everything way too much to be cut out for this job. These twelve years of soul collecting. So many souls collected for a war that might never happen. So many people sacrificed for what.

"Put him in a death stasis using Cassian's magic. She was going to let the spell lock permanently. Keep him trapped forever while she opened the Lycan Vault." "The vault is a myth." "No, it's not." A new voice from the doorway. Everyone turned. A scarred warrior stood there, his face covered in old claw marks. Behind him, fifteen more wolves. "Who are you?" Jetstar demanded. "Dax. From the Outcast Lands." The warrior stepped inside. "And these are wolves you exiled over the past three years. Every single one of us was banished because we refused Arlene's orders. Orders she gave through Damoew while he was under compulsion."

He was in fact the man that loosed the arrow at the final gate striking the civilian, igniting both the hate, and distraction their men needed to buy time. "No arguments there. Our people were forced out into the darkness with nothing. They hoped we would all die by the monsters or hunger. And for many their wishes came true. You won't hear me complain about a few more heads rolling. I say all the loyalist should die." Hallen the leader of the outcasts agreed. "Honestly I agree..." Havoc glanced across the room to Nerissa who was sitting silent, though her expression seem to do little to mask her feelings on the subject. "But it appears someone disagrees." Following his gaze everyone around

NEW TARGETS IDENTIFIED: THE REMNANTS OF THE 'RUST GANG' AND 'ONE-EYED JACK'S' CREW. INTELLIGENCE SUGGESTS THEY ARE HARBORING THE FUGITIVES. REWARD FOR RUST GANG LEADERSHIP: $10,000,000 PER HEAD. LOCATION: SECTOR 4, SCRAP CITY. "Wait," Olivia frowned. "You're putting a bounty on One-Eyed? The mutant who tried to kill us?" "He's a loose end," Jack said. "He knows we were in Scrap City. If Valerius's men find him, he'll talk. He'll tell them everything—about my injuries, about the Tinker, about the direction we headed."

Alliance formed. Callum is now providing security for Isla's network. Three shelters. Seventy-four wolves. Growing organization of packless creatures. My brother is organizing the outcasts. Building something in the wasteland where he was supposed to disappear. Rage builds in my chest. Pure, overwhelming rage. "He was supposed to disappear," I say out loud. "He was supposed to break. Die. Go feral. Anything except this." Marcus stays silent. Omegas don't speak unless spoken to.

The command died on my rock-solid tongue as the bleeding liquid gold drained the last edges of my consciousness. "Papa, the sky is breaking!" Leo roared. His small, blood-stained finger jabbed toward the peripheral monitors displaying the lower rings. Outside the blast doors of Sector Four, huddled masses of starving, mutated scavengers—the Unlearned Leo had just claimed as his pack—pressed themselves against the metal. Fully exposed. With every strobe of the shield, thin, red lasers cut through the blizzard, painting their emaciated bodies. The Council’s orbital weapons locked onto the unprotected thermal signatures.

The part of me that decided to come back bares its teeth. “We move,” I say. *** The east outpost is a cluster of stone and timber tucked against a low ridge, just inside the tree line. By the time we arrive, the snow‑melt damp of the earth is streaked with blood and torn leaves. Rogues are at the perimeter—lean, half‑starved wolves with too‑bright eyes and patchy fur. They hit the ward line in messy, feral rushes, snapping and tearing. Each impact sends a jolt through the sigils anchored in the stones.

It was now time to fight back. In time, Alex had finally been trusted enough by the Ravennites to be allowed to assist his companions beyond the Citadel walls, much to Malachai’s disapproval. When Alex arrived at the outpost, it had already been constructed; it sat within a large open clearing surrounded by the trees, with a small stone wall built around it that stood only about four feet high and was still being secured. Many tents and shelters were erected within the walls and campfires were set up all around the area just like they had been back in the Citadel. At this point, the outpost was occupied by several dozen armed Ravennites, with more preparing to arrive in the next few days. Al

I'd tried to erase the image, to bury it somewhere deep in my mind… but it only got worse. Because it didn't end there. Every night since, he brought a different woman home. Every. Single. Night. And everyone in the Pack House knew. The truth spread like wildfire, feeding on whispers and sideways glances. Now, my shame had a name, Outcast Luna. It was no longer a secret. It was my identity. Still, I clung to a sliver of hope, praying my father would step in. That he'd finally care. But instead of showing up himself, he sent my older brother.

I refuse to allow myself to look away. After my eyes adjust, I look around at my surroundings. The sky stretches endlessly above me, gray-blue and streaked with slow-moving clouds. I stare at it like it might disappear if I blink too long. I forgot how big it was. Forgot how... exposed it feels. Like standing under something that sees everything. "Move," the guard snaps behind me. This time, I do. The path curves away from the prison, winding along the mountainside until it opens into a wide clearing carved into the rock. And that's where I see them.